Anima
by frolics.with.froggies
Summary: It was only later, in the privacy of the room she had rented at the Leaky Cauldron, that Harri was finally alone. She removed the ribbon Mr. Ollivander had wrapped around her wrist to see the words that should have appeared once her wand bonded. The words 'Avada Kedavra' glared at her in emerald green. Harri's heart dropped. Fem!Harry SoulmateAU
1. Invisus: The Vanishing Glass

**Welcome to Anima, my Fem!Harry Soulmate AU. I really love this work, and I hope you enjoy it too. I'm not totally satisfied with the first three chapters (with the Dursleys). I'm trying to edit them so that they fit the tone of the rest of the story.**

 **That said, if Hogwarts year 1 AUs aren't your thing feel free to skip Invisus (CHPS 1-16) and read Compendio (Invisus Redux) instead. It's the important bits of this story condensed down into 2,000 words. Obviously, I'd love if you read the whole story. But there are a lot of year 1 AUs out there, and reading the same lines over and over again can get old.**

 **I hope you enjoy this series! Please let me know what you think :)**

* * *

The only time that Harri Potter had called Aunt Petunia 'mum' she was promptly smacked across the face.

It wasn't the first time her Aunt had hit her, but it was certainly the hardest. "I'm not your mother," Aunt Petunia had snarled. Harri had known that. She had always known, because the Dursleys had made it clear her entire life that Harri was not welcome at Number 4. When she looked back on the moment, Harri wasn't entirely sure what had prompted her. In her five-year-old mind's eye, had she just wanted to be loved? Had she truly believed that her Aunt might reach back with returned affection?

At ten years old Harri knew the truth about that. The Dursleys would never love her. Because Harri is unlovable.

No one liked little Harri Potter. Harriet, as the teachers at school call her. Freak, as her cousin Dudley calls her. The girl, according to her Uncle and Aunt.

She has no friends because everyone knows that Dudley will hit any girls or boys seen with Harri.

Instead, Harri Potter is isolated and alone at school. She mostly hides in the library or music room to avoid Dudley and his gang. Her teachers don't comment, but she suspects that they do notice that she wears oversized boys clothing that is worn and faded. That her glasses are taped together. That she is far too small and skinny for her age. For whatever reason, they don't comment. To Harri, it is only confirmation that she is unlovable.

She tries at school, she really does. Harri is thankfully not penalized for getting better marks than Dudley. Uncle Vernon has always been perfectly content to comment that school, "is for nancy boys and ugly girls anyways". The two refuges that Harri has are books and music. She manages, as if by magic, to be unnoticed when she is reading in the library or strumming a guitar in the music room. She always pictures a shield around herself, a bubble that is exactly Harri sized, that no one can enter. And because she is unlovable Harri Potter, that no one looks for in the first place, she is left alone.

It was during Year 1 of primary school that Harri first read about a mother. In _P_ _eter Pan,_ all the Darling children long to go home to Mrs. Darling. They have a home where Wendy, Michael, and John are beloved by their worried mum. Harri sat there, with her book on her small lap, and pictures it perfectly.

"Mama loves you, my darling girl," a beautiful woman whispers to her. Hair just as red as Harri's.

Everyone has to have a mother. Maybe hers loved her. Maybe, in the whole world, there had once been someone who loved Harri Potter.

She had cried, wet drops hitting the pages. A hole in her heart had grown. Harri had gone back to Number 4, called Aunt Petunia mum, and gotten hit across the face for her trouble.

By the time she was ten, Harri had read the book at least twenty times. It was stained with her tears. Through her longing, Harri was able to picture a woman with fire red hair and a smile that was just for her.

* * *

Harri was awoken on the morning of her cousin's eleventh birthday by the shrill voice of her Aunt.

"Up! Get Up! Now!"

Harri woke with a start. Her aunt rapped on the door again.

"Up!" She screeched. Harri heard her walking toward the kitchen and the sound of the frying pan being put on the stove. She rolled over and tried to remember the dream she had been having. Her mother's face had been perfectly clear while sleeping, but it was quickly fading away. Harri often wondered if there was a picture of her mother somewhere in the house. She knew that she had been Aunt Petunia's sister. But that was it. Harri wasn't allowed to ask questions without being hit.

Her aunt was back outside the door."Are you up yet?" she demanded.

"Nearly," said Harri.

"Well, get a move on, I want you to look after the bacon. And don't you dare let it burn. I want everything perfect for Duddy's birthday."

Harri groaned.

"What did you say?" her aunt snapped through the door.

"Nothing, nothing…"

Harri got slowly out of bed and started looking for socks. She found a pair under her bed and, after pulling a spider off one of them, put them on. Harri was used to spiders, because the cupboard under the stairs was full of them, and that was where she slept.

When she was dressed she went down the hall into the kitchen. The table was almost hidden beneath all of Dudley's birthday presents. It looked as though Dudley had gotten the new computer he wanted, not to mention a staggering number of other electronics.

Perhaps it had something to do with living in a dark cupboard, but Harri had always been small and skinny for her age. _Or maybe it's because they don't feed you enough_ , the dark part of her thought. Harri hated the Dursleys, but with a resigned kind of hatred. She knew that at eighteen the Dursleys would turn her out and that she would need to be smart enough to survive when they did.

Harri had a thin face, knobbly knees, bright red hair, and hazel eyes. She wore round glasses held together with a lot of Scotch tape because of all the times Dudley had ripped them off her face and stomped on them. The only thing that Harri liked about her appearance was a thin scar on her forehead that was shaped like lightning. She had had it as long as she could remember, and the first question she could ever remember asking her Aunt was how she had gotten it.

"In the car crash when your parents died," she had said. "And don't ask questions."

Uncle Vernon entered the kitchen as Harri was turning over the bacon.

"Pull back your hair!" he barked, by way of a morning greeting.

Uncle Vernon hated untidiness, and since he refused to spend money on Harri, he instead was perpetually displeased with her appearance. Harri imagined that she could look presentable if she had clothes that fit. Or someone to show her how to do her hair instead of fussing at her all the time about it. She pulled it back into a low ponytail. She wished she knew how to plait her hair, but she wasn't sure where to begin.

Harri was frying eggs by the time Dudley arrived in the kitchen with his mother. Harri put the plates of eggs and bacon on the table, which was difficult as there wasn't much room. Dudley, meanwhile, was counting his presents. His face fell.

"Thirty-six," he said, looking up at his mother and father. "That's two less than last year." Harri tuned the rest out. She had never received a birthday gift from anyone. Dudley's theatrics about not getting enough only served to make Harri's heart clench in frustration.

While Harri began to eat as quickly as she could, the telephone rang. Aunt Petunia went to answer, while Dudley began to open his gifts.

"Bad news, Vernon," she said. "Mrs. Figg's broken her leg. She can't take the girl."

Dudley's mouth fell open in horror. Harri felt her heart sink. She didn't like Mrs. Figg per se. Mrs. Figg was a mad old lady who lived two streets away. Her whole house smelled of cabbage, but Mrs. Figg had cats and a piano. Harri liked cats a good deal, as they only seemed to like a select number of people. Harri was one of them.

Harri also relished the time she could spend at Mrs. Figg's piano. It was old and slightly out of tune, but Mrs. Figg let Harri rattle around on it for hours. With no one to teach her, Harri checked out primers form the library and played old sheet music that Mrs. Figg had collected through the years. There was also a hymnal that Harri had stolen from church two Christmas' ago when the Dursleys had made their biannual pilgrimage to the Anglican parish.

"Now what?" said Aunt Petunia, looking furiously at Harri as though she had planned this. Harri felt quite sorry for Mrs. Figg but worse for herself. It might be weeks before she got to play again.

"We could phone Marge," Uncle Vernon suggested.

"Don't be silly, Vernon, she hates the girl."

The Dursleys often spoke about Harri like this, as though she wasn't there- or rather, as though she was something very nasty that couldn't understand them, like a slug.

"What about whats-her-name, your friend- Yvonne?"

"On vacation in Majorca," snapped Aunt Petunia.

"You could just leave me here," Harri put in hopefully. "Or call Mrs. Figg back. I promise I won't be any trouble for her."

"And come back and find the house in ruins?" snarled Aunt Petunia. "I suppose we could take her to the zoo," she continued, "and leave her in the car."

"That car's new, she's not sitting in it alone…"

Dudley began to cry loudly. In fact, he wasn't crying- it had been years since he'd really cried- but he knew that if he screwed up his face and wailed, his mother would give him anything he wanted.

"Dinky Duddydums, don't cry, Mummy won't let her spoil your special day!" she cried, flinging her arms around him.

"I… don't… want… her… t-t-to come!" Dudley yelled between huge pretend sobs. "She always spoils everything!" He shot Harri a nasty grin through the gap in his mother's arms.

Just then the doorbell rang- "Oh good Lord, they're here!" said Aunt Petunia frantically- and a moment later, Dudley's best friend, Piers Polkiss, walked in with his mother. Piers was a scrawny boy with a face like a rat. Harri had never liked how he looked at her. Like she was gum on the bottom of his shoe. He'd called her a slag several times, a word that she was certain he'd heard from his brother and didn't understand. Harri had not either until she had looked it up on the new library computer. Harri hoped that she didn't have to use computers too often, as they often acted strangely. The librarian, fresh from her orientation on how the new technology worked, was befuddled why it always acted up after Harri used it.

Half an hour later, Harri, who couldn't believe that she was going somewhere public with the Dursleys, was sitting in the back of the car with Piers and Dudley on the ways to the zoo. She had seen pictures of animals in an encyclopedia and was hopeful about seeing a tiger or lion. Maybe big cats would like her like their domestic cousins.

Maybe they would like her enough to eat Dudley.

"I'm warning you," Uncle Vernon had said, taking Harri aside before they left. "Any funny business, anything at all- and you'll be in that cupboard from now until Christmas."

"I'm not going to do anything," said Harri.

But Uncle Vernon didn't believe her. No one ever did. From her bubble of solitude to the computers acting up, strange things often occurred around Harri.

Once, Aunt Petunia, tired of Harri letting her hair remain unbound, had taken a pair of kitchen scissors and cut her hair to her ears. Harri spent a sleepless night worrying about looking like a little boy the next day at school. Next morning, however, she had gotten up to find her hair exactly as it had been before Aunt Petunia had sheared it off. She had been given a week in her cupboard for this, thankful as always that she had snuck food and water so that she wouldn't starve.

But today, nothing was going to go wrong. It was even worth being with Dudley and Piers and not with her piano, to be spending the day with animals.

It was a sunny Saturday and the zoo was crowded with families. The Dursleys bought Dudley and Piers large chocolate ice creams at the entrance. The smiling lady in the van had asked Harri if she wanted anything, but Petunia had said no for Harri, commenting on young girls and their figures.

They ate in the zoo restaurant, and when Dudley had a tantrum because his knickerbocker glory didn't have enough ice cream on top, Uncle Vernon bought him another one and Harri was allowed to finish the first. Harri loved food. She could never eat much without feeling ill, but she loved the rare taste of something good. Often the Dursleys would give Harri leftovers that were stale in the fridge. Or only rice with no curry. Never the expensive part of a meal. At restaurants, Aunt Petunia would make Harri split with her, and would only give Harri the parts of her meal that she didn't like.

After lunch, they went to the Reptile House. It was cool and dark in there, with lit windows all along the walls. Behind the glass, all sorts of lizards and snakes were crawling and slithering over bits of wood and stone. Dudley and Piers wanted to see huge, poisonous cobras and thick, man-crushing pythons. Dudley quickly found the largest snake in the place. It could have wrapped its body twice around Uncle Vernon's car and crushed it into a trash can- but at the moment it was fast asleep.  
Dudley stood with his nose pressed against the glass, staring at the glistening brown coils.

"Make it move," he whined at his father. Uncle Vernon tapped on the glass, but the snake didn't budge.

"Do it again," Dudley ordered. Uncle Vernon rapped the glass, but the snake snoozed on.

"This is boring," Dudley moaned and shuffled away.

Harri moved in front of the tank and looked intently at the snake. She wouldn't have been surprised if it had died of boredom. It was worse than having a cupboard as a bedroom, where the only visitor was Aunt Petunia.

The snake suddenly opened its beady eyes. Slowly, very slowly, it raised its head until its eyes were level with Harri's.

It winked

Harri started. Then she looked quickly around to see if anyone was watching. They weren't. She looked back at the snake and winked too.

The snake jerked its head toward Uncle Vernon and Dudley, and then raised its eyes to the ceiling. It gave Harri a look that said quite plainly:  
"I get that all the time."

Now Harri, used to wanting no one to see her, felt the sudden need to be invisible with the snake. She pulled her bubble around herself in her mind. Just the snake and Harri. No one would notice them.

" _I know,_ " Harri murmured. " _It must be really annoying_."

The snake nodded vigorously.

" _Where do you come from, anyway?_ " Harri asked. This time as she spoke Harri thought she heard a hiss to her voice. The snake jabbed its tail at a little sign next to the glass. Harri peered at it.

Boa Constrictor, Brazil.

" _Was it nice there?_ " Harri hissed. She was sure of it now, she was speaking to a snake like a snake. She had no idea how she was doing it.

The boa jabbed its tail at the sign again, and Harri read on: Bred in the zoo. " _Oh, I see- so you've never been to Brazil?_ "

The snake sadly shook its head. Harri looked around and saw that the Dursleys were leaving the Reptile House. They had forgotten Harri, which was ideal because she was certainly doing something that Uncle Vernon would not approve of.

Harri had seen pictures of Brazil before in the library encyclopedia. She pictured the rich Amazon filled with life. She felt something funny inside of her. Like a tingle in the back of her throat, or an itch behind her eyes.

" _Do you want to go to Brazil_ ," Harri asked. She didn't know how she knew, but she was certain that if she willed it the snake would be in the Amazon.

It nodded its head. Not knowing how, Harri willed the glass partition out of existence.

It vanished.

She reached out to touch the snake, and her fingers gently brushed the warm dry head. " _Thank you ssspeaker_ ," the snake hissed, and was gone.

Harri started as if from a trance. The glass was gone, the snake was gone, and the Dursleys were not in the Reptile House any longer. She needed to catch up. As she rushed from the room, the sounds of people gasping in panic followed her.

They had noticed that the glass and snake were gone.

* * *

Harri laid in her dark cupboard much later and wondered about that had occurred. How had the glass vanished? How had she talked to a snake? Had she really sent it to Brazil? How?

Harri tried to will something else to happen, but she didn't know how. The feeling of the Reptile House, of seeing a trapped animal that clearly wished to be elsewhere had filled her with something.

Rage, she realized.

The snake was like her. She felt rage that the Dursleys treated her this way. No better than an animal at the zoo.

She'd lived with the Dursleys for almost ten years, ten miserable years, as long as she could remember, ever since she'd been a baby. She couldn't remember being in the car when her parents had died. Sometimes, when she strained her memory during long hours in the cupboard, she came up with a strange vision: a blinding flash of green light and a burning pain on her forehead. This, she supposed, was the crash, though she couldn't imagine where all the green light came from.

When Harri had been younger she had dreamed and dreamed of some unknown relative coming to take her away. But, Harri had no one.

Little Harri Potter was unlovable, but apparently she could send a snake to Brazil. That was something at least.

* * *

 **For updates about when new chapters will be posted in this work, take a look at my user profile. If you're curious about the main goals of this seven-part series I'll lay it out here-**

 **1\. Soulmate AU/Gender Change- I love soulmate AUs and I love the idea of Voldemort and Harry Potter being connected and bound up in each other's souls. I absolutely love several fem!Harry fics, so please be aware that I'm building off a 'fannon' as well as creating my own version of fem!Harry.**

 **2\. Dark Lord and 'Light Lord' are concepts that have far-reaching magical impacts. Voldemort didn't have a very strong motivation IMO. Let's give him one. I'm going to attempt to tie a lot of 'Pureblood' Culture, add a different perspective of light and dark magic, and do some world building. Magic is such a big playground that has a ton of development available. My main focus will be expanding Potions, Magic Creatures, Magical Festivals, and general politics of the wizarding world.**

 **3\. Severus Snape is a complex man. Dumbledore is a complex man. Sometimes it may seem like I'm getting close to the line of badguy!Dumbledore. Let me assure you now that this is not a Dumbledore bashing fic. He's making decisions for real reasons that will take several books to be made clear.**


	2. Invisus: The Magic Letters

The escape of the Brazilian boa constrictor gave Harri a lot to think about. It preoccupied her so completely that by the time she came out of her fog of contemplation, the summer holidays had started. Dudley had already broken his new video camera, crashed his remote controlled airplane, and the first time out on his racing bike, knocked down Mrs. Figg as she crossed Privet Drive on her crutches.

Harri had spent a long time apologizing to Mrs. Figg about her cousin. The old woman remained distant but was willing enough to have Harri help her around the house. After helping Mrs. Figg with her gardening, Harri got to play piano for a good hour before it got too late.

Harri was glad school was over, but there was no escaping Dudley's gang, who visited the house every single day. They were all big stupid boys, and all wanted to play Dudley's favorite game of Harri Hunting.

This was why Harri spent as much time as possible out of Number 4. When she wasn't at the Library or Mrs. Figg's, she was wandering around and thinking about the end of the holidays, where she could see a tiny ray of hope. When September came she would be going off to secondary school and, for the first time her life, she wouldn't be with Dudley. Dudley had been accepted at Uncle Vernon's old private school, Smeltings. Harri, on the other hand, was going to Stonewall High, the local public school. Dudley thought this was very funny.

"They stuff people's heads down the toilet the first day at Stonewall," he told Harri. "Want to come upstairs and practice?"

"No, thanks," said Harri. "The poor toilet's never had anything as horrible as your head down it- it might be sick!" Then she ran, before Dudley could work out what she'd said.

One day in July, Aunt Petunia took Dudley to London to buy his Smeltings uniform, leaving Harri at Mrs. Figg's. Mrs. Figg was used to Harri's presence. She had broken her leg tripping over one of her cats, and seemed to have cooled towards them. They were a little starved for affection, and the cats meowed for pets constantly around Harri. Harri had a very pleasant afternoon gardening and scratching Mr. Tibbs under the chin.

That evening, Dudley paraded around the living room in his new uniform. It was a silly looking affair of maroon with a straw hat. It also came with a stick, used for hitting each other while the teachers weren't looking.

Harri didn't know what to say when she saw Dudley. She thought two of her ribs might have cracked from trying not to laugh.

* * *

There was a horrible smell in the kitchen the next morning when Harri went in for breakfast. When she peered into the sink, she saw a tub full of what looked like dirty rags in gray water.

"What's this?" she asked Aunt Petunia. Her Aunt's lips tightened as they always did if Harri dared to ask a question.

"Your new school uniform," she said.

Harri looked in the tub again. Horror creeping in.

"Oh," she said, "I didn't realize it had to be so wet."

"Don't be stupid," snapped Aunt Petunia. "I'm dyeing some of Dudley's old things gray for you. It'll look just like everyone else's when I've finished."

Harri had to turn away to stop herself from saying anything. Her eyes were burning. And not just from the dye fumes. She would look ridiculous. Like she was wearing bits of old elephant skin. No one would like her. She would still be strange. Surely there was a used uniform that she could get somewhere? Something other than dyed oversized boys clothing.

Dudley and Uncle Vernon came in, both with wrinkled noses because of the smell. Uncle Vernon opened his newspaper as usual and Dudley banged his Smelting stick, which he carried everywhere, on the table.

They head the click of the mail slot and the flop of letters on the doormat.

"Get the mail Dudley," said Uncle Vernon from behind his paper.

"Make Harri get it."

"Get the mail, Harri."

"Make Dudley get it."

"Poke her with your Smelting stick, Dudley."

Harri dodged the Smelting stick and went to get the mail. Three things lay on the doormat: a postcard from Uncle Vernon's sister Marge, who was vacationing on the Isle of Wight, a brown envelope that looked like a bill, and- _a letter for Harri._

Harri picked it up and stared at it, her heart twanging like a guitar. No one, ever, in her whole life, had written to her. Who would? She had no friends, no other relatives- she was never late returning her library books, so she'd never gotten a note asking for books back. Yet here it was, a letter, addressed so plainly there could be no mistake.

 **Miss. H. Potter**

 **The Cupboard under the Stairs**

 **4 Privet Drive**

 **Little Whinging**

 **Surry**

The envelope was thick and heavy, made of yellowish parchment, and the address was written in emerald green ink. There was no stamp. Turning the envelope over, her hand trembling, Harri saw a purple wax seal bearing a coat of arms; a lion, an eagle, a badger and a snake surrounding a large letter _H_.

"Hurry up, girl!" shouted Uncle Vernon from the kitchen. "What are you doing, checking for letter bombs?" he chuckled at his own joke.

The feeling hit her again. The wrong feeling that said that she needed to make herself small and invisible. The Dursleys would take her letter. It was a letter that knew where she slept. A letter that would surely get her blamed for talking. She would be hit.

Quickly, she stashed the letter in her over-sized pockets before making her way into the kitchen. She handed Uncle Vernon the bill and postcard, sat down, and focused on making herself as small and unassuming as possible.

Uncle Vernon ripped open the bill, snorted in disgust, and flipped over the postcard.

"Marge's ill," he informed Aunt Petunia. "Ate a funny whelk."

Breakfast continued on

When Harri went back to her cupboard after breakfast she was nearly vibrating with excitement. A letter for Harri! A letter that knew where she slept. How was that possible? She had never told anyone. Not ever. Before she had started primary school Uncle Vernon had taken her aside, holding her shoulders in his tight grip- face purple, and let her know what would happen if she talked to someone about her life at Privet Drive.

With trembling hands, Harri broke the wax seal and pulled out the letter.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

 _of_ WITCHCRAFT _and_ WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

 _(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chief Warlock,_

 _Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. Of Wizards)_

Dear Miss. Potter,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of necessary books and equipment. Term begins September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall,

 _Deputy Headmistress_

It was a joke.

It had to be a joke. Harri? A witch? She would think that it was the Dursleys mocking her, but they didn't approve of joking. It was too clever and too real for Dudley and his gang. No one at school would have bothered.

Who could have sent this to her?

Who could know where she slept and the deepest desire of her heart. To get away from Number 4 and every Dursley-ish thought.

 _Magic_

She had read so many books with magic. _The Lord of the Rings_ , _The Hobbit_ , _The Chronicles of Narnia_ , _Peter Pan_ , _Matilda, Tuck Everlasting._ The list went on. Harri knew all about books and magic.

The life of Harri Potter, potential witch, was one that seemed utterly impossible though. Shouldn't she have been able to do something to stop the Dursleys from treating her this way? Shouldn't she have been able to burst from her cupboard with furniture flying and have _made_ them put her in Dudley's second bedroom? _Made_ them feed her more than stale food and table scraps.

But… Matilda hadn't been able to do magic even though her parents made her miserable. It had taken more. It had taken the itch in the throat, the tingle behind the eye. The rage.

Harri didn't have rage at the Dursleys anymore. It just wasn't there. She had a resigned hatred. A pitiful kind of feeling, that made her think of a dog who got hit too many times. She wanted to bite, but she couldn't stop herself from flinching at the thought of Uncle Vernon's big beefy fist hitting her face.

Harri thought about the _magic_ , and she knew now that was what it was, that she had done in her life. Her invisible shield, making her hair grow back, _sending a boa constrictor to Brazil!_ It was real. This letter was real.

Harri Potter was a witch!

This school though, Hogwarts, Harri wasn't sure how she could ever dream of going. She didn't have money to buy and school supplies. The Dursleys wouldn't pay for any of it either. She didn't even have a way to get to Hogwarts. She didn't know what 'await your owl' meant.

That meant then that unless a miracle occurred Harri Potter was a witch who would have a very unwitchy life in Surry.

* * *

The next morning at breakfast, when the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon called for Harri to go and get the mail again. She got up without complaint.

There was only one piece of post today. Once again, it was a letter for Harri. It had no stamp. Harri looked around desperately. There was no one about.

Harri picked up the letter, and had a very queer thought. What if she gave this to the Dursleys? How would they react? They didn't know about the first letter. Her hands began to shake, but that feeling inside said that this was what she should do. She should, in apparent innocence, let the Dursleys see this letter.

She went back to the table, and with a trembling voice said, "It's a letter for me." Uncle Vernon jerked it sharply out of her hands.

"Who'd be writing to you," sneered Uncle Vernon, shaking the letter open with one hand and glancing at it. His face went from red to green faster than a set of traffic lights. And it didn't stop there. Within seconds it was the grayish white of old porridge.

"P-P-Petunia!" he gasped.

Dudley tried to grab the letter to read it, but Uncle Vernon held it high out of his reach. Aunt Petunia took it curiously and read the first line. For a moment it looked as though she might faint. She clutched her throat and made a choking noise.

"Vernon! Oh my goodness- Vernon!"

They knew. Harri understood that with perfect clarity now. They knew that she was a witch. They didn't think this was a joke. They were horrified because it was true.

They stared at each other seeming to have forgotten that Harri and Dudley were still in the room. Dudley wasn't used to being ignored. He gave his father a sharp tap on the head with his Smelting stick.

"I want to read the letter," he said loudly.

Realizing that if her act was to be believed, she needed to look like she _also_ wanted to read the letter. "I want to read it," she said as furiously as she could, "as it's mine."

"Get out, both of you," croaked Uncle Vernon, stuffing the letter back inside its envelope.

Harri didn't move.

Did she come clean? Say that she already knew about Hogwarts and magic? What would happen? Would they lock her away? Would life get worse? Or would it give her hope of actually attending the school?

She didn't have time to make a decision though, as Uncle Vernon forcibly pushed her and Dudley from the room. "OUT" he roared, slamming the kitchen door behind them.

Harri and Dudley promptly had a furious but silent fight over who would listen at the keyhole; Dudley won, so Harri, her glasses dangling from one ear, lay flat on her stomach to listen at the crack between the door and floor.

"Vernon," Aunt Petunia was saying in a quivering voice, "look at the address- how could they possibly know where she sleeps? You don't think they're watching the house?"

"Watching- spying- might be following us," muttered Uncle Vernon wildly.

"But what should we do Vernon? Should we write back? Tell them we don't want-"

They knew how to write back? How? Harri prayed that they would give her some hint, some idea. She wanted to write back. Maybe someone would send help. They obviously wanted her to attend enough to send two letters.

"No," he said finally. "No, we'll ignore it. If they don't get any answer… Yes, that's best… we won't do anything…"

"But-"

"I'm not having one in the house, Petunia! Didn't we swear when we took her in we'd stamp out that dangerous nonsense?"

Harri stood up, she needed to be outside.

She left the house through the front door and began to wander as she often did on these summer days.

The Dursleys knew that she was a witch. They had known since the moment they had taken her in. Did that mean that her parents were also a witch and wizard? If they had magic, how was it that they were dead? How could they have died in a car crash?

But was it a car crash after all? The green light in her memory had never matched up. Could the Dursleys have lied about her parents had died too? Of course they could. That was apparently all they had ever done. They lied.

At least she finally had an answer now as to why they had never loved her. She was a witch and they had always known. It was gratifying to know that there was a reason.

Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia seemed convinced that someone was watching the house. Would they come talk to her if she asked? Feeling more than a little silly standing in the lawn of Number 4 (Uncle Vernon's car was gone by now, he must have left for work while Harri wandered), Harri said, "Hello?"

Nothing happened.

"Umm… er…. If you're listening I've read the letter. But I don't understand how to get to school. Can you help?"

Harri stood and waited. Nothing.

She went back inside.

* * *

That evening when he got back from work, Uncle Vernon did something he'd never done before; he visited Harri in her cupboard.

Harri wanted to rail at him, but found that she just shrank against the back of her cupboard and stared at her Uncle with wide eyes.

"That letter," he began, "was addressed to you by mistake. I have burned it."

"It was not a mistake," Harri said in a hoarse voice. "It had my cupboard on it."

"SILENCE!" yelled Uncle Vernon, and a couple of spiders fell from the ceiling. He took a few deep breaths and then forced his face into a smile, which looked quite painful.

"Er- yes, Harri- about this cupboard. Your aunt and I have been thinking… you're really getting a bit big for it… we think it might be nice if you moved into Dudley's second bedroom."

They were afraid, Harri realized. They didn't like that the magic people knew that she was sleeping in a cupboard. They didn't want to be found out, to seem anything less than respectable.

"Why?" she asked anyway. What would he let slip?

"Don't ask questions!" snapped her uncle. "Move this stuff upstairs now."

The Dursleys' house had four bedrooms: one for Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia, one for visitors (usually Uncle Vernon's sister, Marge), one where Dudley slept, and one where Dudley kept all the toys and things that wouldn't fit into his first bedroom. It only took Harri one trip upstairs to move everything she owned from the cupboard to this room. She sat down on the bed and stared around herself. Everything was broken. The month-old video camera, Dudley's first ever television set (which he'd put his foot through), a large birdcage that had once held a parrot. Other shelves were full of books. They were the only things in the room that weren't broken. Harri had read many of them, sneaking upstairs to grab one or two and bringing them down to her cupboard. Well, now at least she wouldn't need to sneak the books.

From downstairs came the sound of Dudley bawling at his mother. "I don't want her in there… I need that room… make her get out."

Harri sighed and stretched out on the bed. She was certain that the Dursleys would not make her get out. She was quickly realizing that they hated magic. That whoever was sending these letters had put them on edge. They were afraid. More afraid of magic then they were of Dudley's tantrums.

* * *

Next morning at breakfast, everyone was rather quiet. Dudley was in shock. He'd screamed, whacked his father with his Smelting stick, been sick on purpose, kicked his mother, and thrown his tortoise through the greenhouse roof, and he still didn't have his room back. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia kept looking at each other darkly.

When the mail arrived, Uncle Vernon, who seemed to be trying to be nice to Harri, made Dudley go and get it. They heard him banging his Smelting stick all the way down the hall. Then he shouted, "There's three of them! 'Miss. H. Potter, The smallest Bedroom, 4 Privet Drive-"

With a strangled cry, Uncle Vernon leapt from his seat and raced down the hall, Harri right behind him. Maybe whoever sent the letters would be outside, and she could try and get them to talk to her now. Maybe they were still watching the house!

After a minute of confusion- Harri trying to get outside and Uncle Vernon grappling with Dudley and the Smelting stick- Uncle Vernon blocked the way with the letters in hand.

"Go to your cupboard- I mean, your bedroom," he wheezed at Harri. "Dudley- go- just go."

Harri walked around and round her new room. They knew she had moved rooms. They were definitely watching the house. Uncle Vernon and Aunt Petunia were right about that. Maybe she would go to this Hogwarts after all. It didn't seem like whoever was sending the letters was giving up yet.

* * *

Uncle Vernon did not go to work that day. He stayed home and nailed up the mail slot. Harri was not allowed outside.

"See," he explained to Aunt Petunia through a mouthful of nails, "if they can't deliver them they'll just give up."

"I'm not sure that'll work, Vernon."

"Oh, these people's minds work in strange ways, Petunia, they're not like you and me," said Uncle Vernon, trying to knock in a nail with the piece of fruitcake Aunt Petunia had just brought him.

 _T_ _hey won't give up,_ Harri thought. _This school, these people, they want me._ Something in Harri's heart loosened.

On Saturday, things began to get out of hand. Twenty-four letters to Harri found their way into the house rolled up and hidden inside each of the two dozen eggs that their very confused milkman had handed Aunt Petunia through the living room window. While Uncle Vernon made furious telephone calls to the post office and the dairy trying to find someone to complain to, Aunt Petunia shredded the letters in her food processor.

"Who on earth wants to talk to you this badly?" Dudley asked Harri in amazement.

"I think they knew my parents," was all Harri said in response.

* * *

On Sunday morning, Uncle Vernon sat down at the breakfast table looking tired and rather ill, but happy.

"No post on Sundays," he reminded them cheerfully as he spread marmalade on his newspapers, "no damn letters today-"

Harri was fairly certain that magic did not stop working just because it was Sunday, and was quickly proven right when something came whizzing down the kitchen chimney as Uncle Vernon spoke, and caught him sharply on the back of the head. Next moment, thirty or forty letters came pelting out of the fireplace like bullets. The Dursleys ducked, but Harri simply stood there in amazement.

"Out! OUT!"

Uncle Vernon seized Harri around the waist and threw her into the hall. Harri didn't care, and quickly ran for outside. Were they on the roof sending letters down?

But Uncle Vernon grabbed her by the arm again as Aunt Petunia and Dudley came running out of the kitchen, shutting the door behind them.

"That does it," said Uncle Vernon, trying to speak calmly, but pulling great tufts out of his mustache at the same time. "I want you all back here in five minutes ready to leave. We're going away. Just pack some clothes. No argument!"

He looked so dangerous with half his mustache missing that no one dared argue. Ten minutes later they had wrenched their way through the boarded up doors and were in the car, speeding toward the highway. Dudley was sniffling in the back seat; his father had hit him round the head for holding them up while he tried to pack his television, VCR, and computer in his sports bag.

They drove. And they drove. Even Aunt Petunia didn't dare ask where they were going. Every now and then Uncle Vernon would take a sharp turn and drive in the opposite direction for a while.

Uncle Vernon stopped at last outside a gloomy-looking hotel on the outskirts of a big city. Harri didn't sleep well that night, she lay awake and prayed that she would be found by the magic. The light feeling in her chest could only be described as hope.

They ate stale cornflakes and cold tinned tomatoes on toast for breakfast the next day. They had just finished when the owner of the hotel came over to their table.

"Scuse me, but is one of you Miss. H Potter? Only I got about a 'undred of these at the front desk."

She held up a letter so they could read the green ink address:

 ** _Miss. H. Potter_**

 ** _Room 17_**

 ** _Railview Hotel_**

 ** _Cokeworth_**

Harri felt her heart give a lurch of unbridled joy. The magic had followed her after all.

"I'll take them," said Uncle Vernon, standing up quickly and following her from the dining room.

* * *

"Wouldn't it be better just to go home, dear?" Aunt Petunia suggested timidly, hours later, but Uncle Vernon didn't seem to hear her. By the end of the day, they found themselves on a little boat heading out to sea.

It was freezing in the boat. Icy sea spray and rain crept down their necks and a chilly wind whipped their faces. After what seemed like hours they reached the rock, where Uncle Vernon, slipping and sliding, led the way to the broken down house.

The inside was horrible, it smelled, the fireplace was damp and empty, and there were only two rooms.

Dinner was a bag of chips a banana each.

Uncle Vernon was in a good mood, convinced that nobody stood a chance of reaching them here in a storm to deliver mail. Harri knew though, down to her bones, that this was it. Every good story said that this would be the place where something climatic happened.

As night fell, the promised storm blew up around them. Spray from the high waves splattered the walls of the hut and a fierce wind rattled the windows. It raged more ferociously as the night went on, and Harri huddled under the thinnest blanket on the floor.

Harri would be eleven at midnight. She watched the dial on Dudley's watch as it clicked down. She listed to the wild wind and the creaking of the shack on the rock. She would go to sleep once it was her birthday. The watch clicked over, it was midnight.

BOOM

The whole shack shook, and Harri sat bolt upright. Excitement flooded her. This was it. The magic was here. Someone was knocking to come in.


	3. Invisus: The Keeper of the Keys

Boom. They knocked again. Dudley jerked awake.

"Where's the cannon?" he asked stupidly.

There was a crash behind them and Uncle Vernon came skidding into the room. He was holding a rifle in his hands- Harri had forgotten the long, thin package he had brought with them.

"Who's there?" he shouted. "I warn you- I'm armed!"

There was a pause. Then-

SMASH!

The door was hit with such force that it swung clean off its hinges, and with a deafening crash landed flat on the floor.

A giant of a man was standing in the doorway. His face was almost completely hidden by a long, shaggy mane of hair and a wild, tangled beard, but you could make out his eyes, glinting like black beetles under all the hair.

The giant squeezed his way into the hut, stooping so that his head just brushed the ceiling. He bent down, picked up the door and fitted it easily back into its frame. The noise of the storm outside dropped a little. He turned to look at them all.

"Couldn't make us a cup o'tea could yeh? It's not been an easy journey…."

He strode over to the sofa where Dudley sat frozen with fear.

"Budge up, yeh great lump," said the stranger.

Dudley squeaked and ran to hide behind his mother, who was crouching terrified, behind Uncle Vernon.

"An here's Harriet!" said the giant.

Harri looked up into the fierce, wild, shadowy face and saw that the beetle eyes were crinkled in a smile. One of the first genuine smiles she had ever seen directed at her.

"Las' time I saw you, you were only a baby," said the giant "Yeh look a lot like your dad in the face, but yeh've got your mom's hair." It was the first description she had ever received of her parents. She looked like her father. Her mother had red hair, just like she'd always imagined. This man, this giant, had known her parents. Remembered how they looked. Could say which parts of Harri belonged to whom. She was awash with emotion.

Uncle Vernon ruined it of course. "I demand that you leave at once sir!" he said. "You're breaking and entering!"

"Ah shut up, Dursley, yeh great prune," said the giant; he reached over the back of the sofa, jerked the gun out of Uncle Vernon's hands, bent it into a knot as easily as if it had been made of rubber, and threw it into the corner of the room.

Uncle Vernon made a funny noise, like a mouse being trodden on.

"Anyway- Harriet," said the giant, turning his back on the Dursleys, "A very happy birthday to yeh. Got summat fer yeh here- I mighta sat on it at some point, but it'll taste all right."

From an inside pocket of his black overcoat he pulled a slightly squashed box. Harri opened it with trembling fingers. Inside was a large, sticky chocolate cake with _Happy Birthday Harriet_ written in green icing.

Harri looked up at the giant. She meant to say thank you, but paused as she felt something wet sliding down her cheek. She was crying. She reached up and touched the tears, feeling overwhelmed. The giant looked confused.

"I'm sorry," said Harri. "It's just, I've never gotten a birthday cake before."

The giant looked outraged. "What!" he exclaimed.

"It's so lovely. Thank you… Oh, but I don't know your name!"

The giant seemed like he was trying to collect himself. "True," he said finally. "I haven't introduced myself. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper of Keys and Grounds at Hogwarts."

He held out an enormous hand and shook Harri's whole arm.

"What about that tea then, eh?" he said, rubbing his hands together. "I'd not say no ter summat stronger if yeh've got it, mind."

His eyes fell on the empty grate, and he snorted. He bent down over the fireplace; they couldn't' see what he was doing but when he drew back a second later there was a roaring fire there. It filled the whole damp hut with flickering light and Harri felt the warmth wash over her as though she'd sunk into a hot bath.

"Magic," she whispered to herself. Aunt Petunia heard, and shot her a dark look.

Hagrid sat back down on the sofa, which sagged under his weight, and began taking tea things out of pockets. Soon the hut was full of the sound and smell of sizzling sausage. Nobody said a thing while the giant was working, but as he slid the first six fat, juicy, slightly burnt sausages from the poker, Dudley fidgeted a little. Uncle Vernon said sharply, "Don't touch anything he gives you, Dudley."

The giant chuckled darkly.

"Yer great puddin' of a son don' need fattenin' anymore, Dursley, don' worry."

He passed the sausages to Harri, who was so hungry she had never tasted anything so wonderful, but she still couldn't take her eyes off of Hagrid. Would he do more magic? Finally, as no one seemed about to explain anything else, she said, "I'm sorry, but I still don't really know who you are."

The giant took a gulp of tea and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Call me Hagrid," he said, "everyone does. An' like I told yeh. I'm Keeper of Keys at Hogwarts- yeh'll know all about Hogwarts, o' course."

"Only what was in the letter. I don't know anything else," said Harri. Uncle Vernon made a sound, that made it clear that he assumed Harri hadn't read any of the letters.

Hagrid looked shocked.

"Sorry," Harri said quickly.

" _S_ _orry?_ " barked Hagrid, turning to stare at the Dursleys, who shrank back into the shadows. "It's them as should be sorry! I knew yeh didn't have a way to respond, but I never thought yeh wouldn't even know where yer parents learned it all?"

"Magic?" Harri asked excitedly. "My parents learned magic at Hogwarts!?"

"Of course magic!" said Hagrid looking perplexed. "Don't you know about _our_ world?" he asked.

"Not really," Harri confessed. "I just know that sometimes strange things happen around me. The letter explained that. And when my Aunt and Uncle seemed to know what was going on, well I figured that my parents must have been magic too."

"Yeh don't know… about your parents?" Hagrid asked. "I mean, they're famous. You're famous."

"What? My- my mum and dad weren't famous were they?"

"Yeh don' know… yeh don' know.." Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair, fixing Harri with a bewildered stare.

"I know I'm a witch," Harri said with more confidence than she felt

"Stop!" Uncle Vernon commanded. "Stop right there sir! I forbid you to tell the girl anything!"

A braver man than Vernon Dursley would have quailed under the furious look Hagrid now gave him; when Hagrid spoke again "You never told her? Never told her what was in the letter Dumbledore left fer her? I was there! I saw Dumbledore leave it, Dursley! An' you've kept it from her all these years?"

"Kept what from me?" asked Harri.

"STOP! I FORBID YOU!" yelled Uncle Vernon in panic.

"You're a witch Harriet," Hagrid confirmed, ignoring Uncle Vernon. "a thumpin' good one I'd say once yeh've been trained up a bit. With a mum an' dad like yours, what else would yeh be?"

Questions exploded inside of Harri's head. She had been right. She was a witch. She asked the first question that came to her mind. "Since you knew my parents… I don't suppose you could tell me what their names were?"

Hagrid looked horrified. And then his eyes softened looking at her. It was pity, she realized. The teachers at school sometimes looked at her like this. Harri didn't like pity. But maybe this time it would be different. Maybe this time, someone would help her.

"James Potter was your dad's name. And yur mum was Lily Evans." Lily. The name rang through her ears.

Lily. Lily. Lily.

James and Lily Potter.

Her parents. Who she looked like.

"Gallopin' Gorgons, I nearly forgot," said Hagrid, clapping a hand to his forehead with enough force to knock over a cart horse. From another pocket inside his overcoat he pulled out an owl- a real live rather ruffled looking owl- a long quill, and a roll of parchment. With his tongue between his teeth he scribbled a note that Harri could read upside down:

 **Dear Professor Dumbledore,**

 **Given Harriet her letter.**

 **Taking her to buy her things tomorrow.**

 **Weather's horrible. Hope you're well.**

 **Hagrid**

Hagrid rolled up the note, gave it to the owl, which clamped it in its beak, went to the door, and threw the owl out into the storm. Then came back and sat down as though this was as normal as talking on the telephone.

Harri thought that mail by owl wasn't very practical. Surely magic could come up with something faster than bird post.

"Where was I?' said Hagrid, but at that moment, Uncle Vernon, still ashen-faced but looking very angry, moved into the firelight.

"She's not going," he said.

Hagrid grunted. "I'd like ter see a great Muggle like you stop her," he said.

"A what?" asked Harri, interested.

"A Muggle," said Hagrid, "it's what we call nonmagic folk like them. An' it's your bad luck you grew up in a family o' the biggest Muggles I ever laid eyes on."

"We swore when we took her in we'd put a stop to that rubbish," said Uncle Vernon, "swore we'd stamp it out of her! Witch indeed!"

"So you did know," Harri said, as calmly as she could manage. The simmering itchy feeling was there again. The rage.

"Of course we knew," shrieked Aunt Petunia suddenly. "How could you not be, my dratted sister being what she was? Oh, she got a letter just like that and disappeared off to that- that school- and came home every vacation with her pockets full of frog spawn, turning teacups into rats. I was the only one who saw her for what she was- a freak! But for my mother and father, oh no, it was Lily this and Lily that, they were proud of having a witch in the family!"

She stopped to draw a deep breath and then went ranting on. It seemed she had been wanting to say all this for years.

"Then she met that Potter at school, claimed that some tattoo she had gotten said they were meant to be together! They got married and had you, and of course I knew you'd be just the same, just as strange, just as- as- abnormal- and then, if you please, she went and got herself blown up and we got landed with you!"

"I KNEW IT" Harri shouted. "I KNEW YOU LIED. For years I've been seeing green light when I tried to remember! I knew that was no car accident." The shack was shaking now. Harri knew it was the itch. It was her anger making this happen. She took several deep breaths.

"You remember that, Harriet?" Hagrid asked… he seemed quiet now. He was looking like he hadn't expected her to say that.

"Yes," Harri said. "Does the light mean something?"

"Oh I shoudn' say nothin 'bout that," Hagrid responded looking dark.

"But why? What happened?" Harri asked urgently.

"That light... " Hagrid began, "It's from a spell. It's called the Killing Curse. Avada Kedavra"

"So someone… someone killed my parents?"

"I never expected this," he said with a low, worried voice. "I had no idea, when Dumbledore told me that there might be trouble gettin' hold of yeh, how much yeh didn't know. Ah Harriet, I don't know if I'm the right person ter tell yeh- but someone's gotta- yeh can't go off ter Hogwarts not knowin'."

He threw a dirty look at the Dursleys.

"Well, it's best yeh know as much as I can tell yeh- mind, I can't tell yeh everything', it's a great myst'ry, parts of it…"

He sat down, stared into the fire for a few seconds, and then said, "It begins, I suppose, with- with a person called- but it's incredible yeh don't know his name, everyone in our world knows-"

"Who?"

"Well- I don' like sayin' the name if I can help it. No one does."

"Why not?"

"Gulpin' gargoyles, Harriet, people are still scared. Blimey, this is difficult. See there was this wizard who went… bad. As bad as you could go. Worse. Worse than worse. His name was…"

Hagrid gulped, not no words came out.

"Could you write it down?" Harri suggested.

"Nah- can't spell it. All right- Voldemort." Hagrid shuddered.

Harri felt something coil inside of her. It was a queasy feeling. She felt as if she was missing something. Like there was something in the air that tinged in tingled. Was this magic? Was she feeling a magical reaction to the name of her parent's killer?

"Don' make me say it again. Anyway, this- this wizard about twenty years ago now, started lookin' for followers. He was the new Dark Lord- so he got 'em too- some were afraid, some just wanted power. Dark days, Harriet. Didn't know who ter trust, didn't dare get friendly with stranger wizards or witches… terrible things happened. He was takin' over. 'Course, some stood up to him- 'an he killed 'em. Horribly. One o' the only safe places left was Hogwarts. Reckon Dumbledore's the only one You-Know-Who was afraid of- bein' the Lord o' Light 'an all. Didn't dare try takin' the school, not jus' then, anyway."

"Now, yer mum an' dad were as good a witch and wizard as I ever knew. Head boy an' girl at Hogwarts in their day! Suppose the mystery is why You-Know-Who never tried to get 'em on his side before… probably knew they were too close ter Dumbledore ter want anythin' ter do with the Dark Side."

"Maybe he thought he could persuade 'em… maybe he just wanted 'em outta the way. All anyone knows is, he turned up in the village where you was all living, on Halloween ten yeras ago. You was just a year old. He came ter yer house an'- an'-"

Hagrid suddenly pulled out a very dirty, spotted handkerchief and blew his nose with a sound like a foghorn.

"Sorry," he said, "But it's that sad- knew yer mum an' dad, an' nicer people yeh couldn't find- anyway…"

"You-Know-Who killed 'em. An' then- an' this is the real myst'ry of the thing- he tried to kill you, too!"

"What?" Harri asked, shocked. Shouldn't she be dead then?

"He couldn't do it. Never wondered how you got that mark on yer forehead? That was no ordinary cut. That's what yeh get when a powerful, evil curse touches yeh- but it didn't work on you, an' that's why yer famous, Harriet. No one ever lived after he decided ter kill 'em, no one except you, an' he'd killed some o' the best witches an' wizards of the age."

Something very painful was going on in Harri's mind. As Hagrid's story came to a close, she saw again the blinding flash of green light. Avada Kedavra as Hagrid had called it. It was clearer than it had ever been before. And she remembered something else, for the first time in her life: a high, cold, cruel laugh.

The magic around her sizzled. Her hair began to sway. She felt the vibration of the rock shaking again. Harri felt- well- too much for one girl to feel. It was all insane. There was certainly no way that she could have stopped a curse that was meant to kill. Not if her parents had died from it first.

She had been a baby.

"Took yeh from the ruined house myself, on Dumbledore's orders. Brought yeh ter this lot…"

"Load of old tosh," said Uncle Vernon. Harri jumped; she had almost forgotten that the Dursleys were there. Uncle Vernon certainly seemed to have gotten his courage back. He was glaring at Hagrid and his fists were clenched.

"Now, you listen here, girl." he snarled, "I accept there's something strange about you, probably nothing another beating wouldn't have cured…"

But he didn't finish. Harri felt the tingle behind her eye, the scratch in the back of her throat. She knew, suddenly, that she had power.

So she used it.

Uncle Vernon was upside down in a flash.

"Never speak like that to me again," Harri said. It was her first moment of bravery against her Uncle in years. "My parents are dead. They died! And all you lot did was treat me like a dog. Why couldn't you have cared at all? I never was bad! But you couldn't, could you? I was was nothing to you, even as a baby, I was nothing!"

Hagrid placed a hand on Harri's shoulder, and she felt the rage inside of her slow to a low thrum. Uncle Vernon dropped back down to the floor.

Uncle Vernon stood, and he ushered Aunt Petunia and Dudley into the other room. They closed the door firmly. Harri was alone with Hagrid.

Harri took several deep breaths. She felt the magic fade away.

"That's more control than I expected," Hagrid told her.

"I… I don't know how to make it happen really. It's only when I'm upset."

"That's normal," Hagrid assured her. "You'll figure it out better once you have a wand and some practice."

"What happened to Vol- sorry- I mean You-Know-Who?" Harri asked when she had collected herself.

"Good question, Harriet. Disappeared. Vanished. Same night he tried ter kill you. Makes yeh even more famous. That's the biggest myst'ry see… he was gettin' more an' more powerful- why'd he go."

"Some say he died. Codswallop, in my opinion. Dunno if he had enough human left in him to die. Some say he's still out there, bidin' his time, like, but I don' believe it. People who were on his side came back ter ours. Some of 'em came outta kind of trances. Don' reckon they could've done if he was commin' back."

"Most of us reckon he's still out there somewhere but lost his powers. Too weak to carry on. 'Cause somethin' about you finished him, Harriet. There was somethin' goin' on that night he hadn't counted on- I dunno what it was, no one does- but somethin' about you stumped him all right."

Hagrid looked at Harri with warmth and respect blazing in his eyes. It was so strange to see affection like that in his face. No one had ever looked at Harri that way before.

"Hagrid… Just so you know… I usually go by Harri. Not Harriet. Or at least, I'd like to have friends call me Harri."

Hagrid kept looking at Harri with warmth. "That blanket is too thin for you," he said gruffly. "Sleep under my coat Harri." He shrugged off his greatcoat and draped it over her shoulders. Harri felt the warmth of the fire, the warmth of the coat, and the warmth of Hagrid's gaze.

She was going to Hogwarts, she would learn to be a witch, and she would make her parents proud.

Harri wasn't sure what to call the feeling welling inside of her now.

She would almost call it happiness.


	4. Invisus: Diagon Alley

Harri woke early the next morning. Although she could tell it was daylight, she kept her eyes shut tight.

 _It was a dream_ , she thought to herself. _I dreamed that a giant came to take me to Hogwarts. That I caused Uncle Vernon to flip upside down. That I'm someone people care about_.

There was a sudden loud tapping noise.

 _And there's Aunt Petunia knocking on the door_ , Harri thought, her heart sinking. But she still didn't open her eyes. It had been such a good dream.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

"I'm up," she called, sitting up.

Hagrid's heavy coat fell off her. The hut was full of sunlight, the storm was over, Hagrid himself was asleep on the collapsed sofa, and there was an owl rapping its claw on the window, a newspaper held in its beak. Harri scrambled to her feet, so happy she felt as though a large balloon was swelling inside her. She went straight to the window and jerked it open. The owl swooped in and dropped the newspaper on top of Hagrid, who didn't wake up. The owl then fluttered onto the floor and began to attack Hagrid's coat.

"Hagrid!" said Harri loudly. "There's an owl-"

"Pay him," Hagrid grunted into the sofa.

"What?"

"He wants payin' fer deliverin' the paper. Look in the pockets."

Hagrid's coat seemed to be made of pockets. It took a bit of looking before finally Harri pulled out a handful of strange-looking coins.

"Give him five knuts," said Hagrid sleepily.

"Knuts?"

"The little bronze ones."

Harri counted out five little bronze coins, and the owl held out his leg so Harri could put the money into a small pouch. Then he flew off through the open window.

Hagrid yawned loudly, sat up, and stretched.

"Best be off, Harri, lots ter do today, gotta get up ter London an' buy all yer stuff fer school."

Harri was turning over the wizard coins and looking at them. She ruminated on the horrible truth she had gone over again and again. She didn't have any money. The Dursleys certainly weren't going to pay for anything.

"Hagrid… I haven't got any money."

"Don't worry about that," said Hagrid, standing up and scratching his head. "D'yeh think yer parents didn't leave yeh anything?"

"But if their house was destroyed-"

"They didn't keep their gold in the house girl! Nah, first stop fer us is Gringotts. Wizard Bank. Have a sausage, they're not bad cold- an' I wouldn't say no teh a bit o' yer birthday cake, neither."

"Wizards have banks!" Harri exclaimed in excitement. She would have money! What an amazing thing. She could, maybe, buy clothes that fit. She could look like a normal person instead of a scrawny girl in too large clothes that always made her look scrawnier than she was.

"Just the one. Gringotts. Run by goblins."

Harri dropped the bit of sausage she was holding.

" Goblins? "

"Yeah- so yeh'd be mad ter try an' rob it, I'll tell yeh that. Never mess with goblins, Harri. Gringotts is the safest place in the world fer anything yeh want ter keep safe- 'cept maybe Hogwarts. As a matter o' fact, I gotta visit Gringotts anyway. Fer Dumbledore. Hogwarts business." Hagrid drew himself up proudly.

"Got everythin'? Come on then."

Harri followed Hagrid out onto the rock. The sky was quite clear now and the sea gleamed in the sunlight. The boat Uncle Vernon had hired was still there, with a lot of water in the bottom after the storm.

"How did you get here?" Harri asked, looking around for another boat.

"Flew," said Hagrid.

"Flew?"

"Yeah, but we'll go back in this. Not s'pposed ter use magic now I've got yeh."

"But how will the Dursleys get back if we take the boat?" Harri asked, vaguely alarmed about stranding her relatives.

"We'll get the chap at the boathouse to row it back fer 'em," Hagrid assured.

Harri felt a bit better about abandoning her relatives in such a strange, dank location. "Seems a shame ter row, though," said Hagrid, giving Harri a sideways look.

"I won't tell if you don't," said Harri quickly, eager to see more magic. Hagrid pulled out his pink umbrella, and they were quickly on their way.

Harri learned a lot from Hagrid on their way to the station. She learned about Gringotts, the Ministry of Magic, even dragons. She wasn't sure how muggles had learned to ignore dragons if they were flying around. Hagrid assured her that muggles didn't notice much of anything. It seemed… the wrong kind of thing to say.

Harri might not like the Dursleys, but she knew that not all muggles were bad. Knew they had invented a good deal of useful technology and were capable of a good many things. When she said as much, Hagrid shrugged, "Magic int'feres with anything like that. Wizards don't have much luck with muggle things."

That explained the computers that she had never been able to use.

When they reached the station, there was a train to London in five minutes time. Hagrid, who didn't understand "Muggle money," as he called it, gave the bills to Harri so she could buy their tickets. She felt a little uneasy about the way that Hagrid spoke about the muggle world. The only world she had ever known.

People stared more than ever on the train. Hagrid took up two seats and sat knitting what looked like a canary-yellow circus tent. Where had he kept that? Were Hagrid's pockets magic?

"Do you have a copy of yer letter Harri?" Hagrid asked as he counted stitches.

Harri nodded and took the parchment envelope out of one of her pockets.

"Good," said Hagrid. "Have you looked over the list of what yeh need?"

Harri had.

HOGWARTS SCHOOL

of WITCHCRAFT and WIZARDRY

 **Uniform**

First-year students will require

1\. Three sets of plan work robes (black)

2\. One plain pointed hat (black) for day wear

3\. One pair protective gloves (dragon hide or similar)

4\. One winter cloak (black, silver fastenings)

5\. One mark cover (silver)

Please note that all pupils' clothes should carry name tags

 **Course Books**

All students should have a copy of each of the following:

 _The Standard Book of Spells (Grade 1)_ by Miranda Goshawk

 _A History of Magic_ by Bathilda Bagshot

 _Magical Theory_ by Adalbert Waffling

 _A Beginners' Guide to Transfiguration_ by Emeric Switch

 _One Thousand Magical Herbs and Fungi_ by Phyllida Spore

 _Magical Drafts and Potions_ by Arsenius Jigger

 _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ by Newt Scamander

 _The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection_ by Quentin Trimble

 **Suggested Books**

 _Soul Marks: A Young Person's Guide_ by Bethany Blaylock

 **Other Equipment**

1 wand

1 cauldron (pewter, standard size 2)

1 set of glass or crystal vials

1 telescope

1 set of brass scales

Students may also bring an owl OR a cat OR a toad

PARENTS ARE REMINDED THAT FIRST YEARS

ARE NOT ALLOWED THEIR OWN BROOMSTICKS

"Can we buy all this in London?" Harri wondered aloud.

"If yeh know where to go," said Hagrid.

* * *

Harri had never been to London before. Although Hagrid seemed to know where he was going, he was obviously not used to getting there in an ordinary way. Harri had to constantly intervene, he stuck out like a sore thumb! He got stuck in the ticket barrier, spoke loudly of muggles, and almost knocked into a concession cart while talking with his very large hands.

"I don't know how the Muggles manage without magic," he said as they climbed the broken-down escalator that led up to bustling road lined with shops.

"Well enough, really!" Harri assured. "I don't know if you're giving them enough credit. Look how fast we were able to travel from one side of England to the other."

"Pish Posh," Hagrid said dismissively. "With magic, we could have been in the Alley in a moment, instead of hours."

Hagrid was so huge that he parted the crowd easily; all Harri had to do was stay close. They passed all kinds of stores, and Harri made a note of several clothing stores she wouldn't mind visiting if she had enough time and money. Stores that Aunt Petunia would scoff at for Harri to shop in. Any girls clothes that Harri owned were from consignment and used shops.

"This is it," said Hagrid, coming to a halt, "the Leaky Cauldron. It's a famous place."

It was a tiny, grubby-looking pub. If Hagrid hadn't pointed it out, Harri wouldn't have noticed it was there. The people hurrying by didn't glance at it. Magic, Harri thought. It was magic to make the muggles not notice. She felt uneasy again. It felt…. Wrong somehow.

For a famous place, it was very dark and shabby. A few old women were sitting in the corner, drinking tiny glasses of sherry. One of them was smoking a long pipe. A little man in a top hat was talking to the old bartender, who was quite bald and looked like a toothless walnut. The low buzz of chatter stopped when they walked in. Everyone seemed to know Hagrid; they waved and smiled at him, and the bartender reached for a glass, saying, "The usual, Hagrid?"

"Can't, Tom, I'm on Hogwarts business," said Hagrid, clapping his great hand on Harri's shoulder and making her knees buckle.

"Good Lord," said the bartender, peering at Harri, "is that- can this be-?"

The Leaky Cauldron had suddenly gone completely still and silent. Harri had to stop herself from pulling her 'Harri Shields' around herself. She had the overwhelming urge to run or hide. Don't look at me, she wanted to shout.

Everyone was looking.

"Bless my soul," whispered the old bartender, "Harriet Potter… what an honor."

He hurried out from behind the bar, rushed toward Harri and seized her hand, tears in his eyes.

"Welcome back, Miss. Potter, welcome back."

Harri didn't know what to say. Everyone was looking at her. The old woman with the pipe was puffing on it without realizing it had gone out. Hagrid was beaming.

Then there was a great scraping of chairs and the next moment, Harri found herself shaking hands with everyone in the Leaky Cauldron.

"Doris Crockford, Miss. Potter, can't believe I'm meeting you at last."

"So proud, Miss. Potter, I'm just so proud."

"Always wanted to shake your hand- I'm all a flutter."

A pale young man made his way forward, very nervously. One of his eyes was twitching. "Y-you look a-a-lmost t-translucent Miss. Potter," he said.

Harri realized in the panic she had started to gather her magic around herself. She felt overwhelmingly uncomfortable with all these people shaking her hand. Thanking her for something she had no memory of. Thanking her for the night her parents were murdered.

"Professor Quirrell!" Hagrid said. "Harri, Professor Quirrell will be one of your teachers at Hogwarts."

Harri took a deep breath and let her magic dissipate. She was safe, she was fine.

"C-can't t-tell you how p-pleased I am to meet you." He grasped Harri's hand

"What sort of magic do you teach, Professor Quirrell?"

"D-Defense Against the D-D-Dark Arts," muttered Professor Quirrell, as though he'd rather not think about it.

Harri had to try very hard to not let her magic gather around her again as more people kept coming up to meet her. Finally, a blissful relief really, Hagrid managed to make himself heard.

"Must get on- lots ter buy. Come on Harriet."

Harri couldn't believe the sight of Diagon Alley.

The sun shone brightly here, in huge contrast to the pub the had just left. The shops looked bright and cheerful. There were all sorts of items for sale in clearly displayed windows. Caludorns, books, ice cream even! Harri spotted an Apothecary, an Owl Emporium, and even a broomstick shop! It was strange to think that the myth of brooms was actually true when it came to wizards. There were several street carts too. They were selling snacks, odd-looking trinkets, and almost all of them had some kind of bracelet.

As Harri looked around she realized that almost everyone was wearing a bracelet or ribbon around their wrist. Even Hagrid, she was shocked to see, had some kind of bandage on his left wrist.

"Hagrid," Harri said suddenly very self-conscious, "why does everyone have a bracelet on their wrist?"

"Galloping Gargoyles," Hagrid stopped dead in his tracks. "I forgot about one of 'te most important things!"

He fixed Harri with a very serious look. "'Ts not polite to talk 'bout. Ever. I'll try and explain it teh yeh later. Before you get yur wand."

Harri was only more curious now. One of the most important things?

They came upon a snowy white building that towered over the other little shops. Standing beside its bronze doors, wearing a uniform of scarlet and gold was-

"Yeah, that's a goblin," said Hagrid quietly as they walked up the white stone steps toward him. The goblin was about a head shorter than Harri. He had a swarthy, clever face, a pointed beard and, Harri noticed, very long fingers and feet. The goblin did not have anything covering his wrist.

 _Enter, stranger, but take heed_

 _Of what awaits the sin of greed,_

 _For those who take, but do not earn,_

 _Must pay most dearly in their turn._

 _So if you seek beneath our floors,_

 _A treasure that was never yours,_

 _Thief, you have been warned beware_

 _Of finding more than treasure there._

* * *

They exited Gringotts some time later with more money than Harri had ever dreamed of having. Her vault was piled high with gold. Hagrid had assured her that what she had taken was probably enough for three years of purchases, let alone one. But Harri knew she had a lot to buy. She had never had the resources to look like a normal girl before, and it was one of her dearest wishes. Not to mention there were so many books to buy! How was she ever going to understand the wizarding world? She felt like a stranger, an outsider looking in. Everything she knew was muggle, and judging by the dismissive way Hagrid talked about muggles, that wasn't going to get her very far in the wizarding world.

Hagrid had also made a stop at a high-security vault to take a grubby looking package from vault 713. He implored her to not mention the package to anyone at Hogwarts.

"Might as well get yer uniform," said Hagrid, nodding toward Madam Malkin's Robes for All Occasions. "Listen, Harri, would ye mind if I slipped off fer a pick-me-up in the Leaky Cauldron? I hate them Gringotts carts." He did look a bit sick, so Harri entered Madam Malkin's shop alone.

Madame Malkin was a squat, smiling witch dressed all in mauve.

"Hogwarts, dear?" she said when Harri started to speak. "Got the lot here- a young man being fitted up just now in fact."

"Well, yes Ma'am. But also, I was wondering if you knew where I could get some other clothes. I don't have many that fit you see."

Madame Malkin appraised her silently for a moment, "Of course dear. What all do you think you need, we have it all here."

"Well, everything honestly. How much would a new wardrobe cost?"

Madame Malkin told her the price for all her Hogwarts apparel plus several dresses, jumpers, underthings, slacks, skirts, and vests. It almost seemed odd that Hogwarts didn't have a school uniform and that regular clothing was just worn under the robes. Harri also requested a set of emerald green robes. It might be nice, she thought, to wear something different now and again when out in the wizarding world.

Harri didn't blink at the price and paid half upfront. Madame Malkin took her in the back to start getting her measurements and to start fitting the different robes.

"Hello," said a pale boy with a pointed face, standing on the footstool next to Harri. "Hogwarts, too?"

"Yes," said Harri.

"My father's next door buying my books and mother's up the street looking at Mark Covers," said the boy. He had a bored, drawling voice. "Then I'm going to get my wand. I can't wait to see what it says! Then I'll bully father into getting me a broom, I'll smuggle it in somehow"

Harri was strongly reminded of Dudley. What was a mark cover? Was that the thing all the adults had on their wrist? Hagrid had mentioned talking about it before Harri got her wand.

"Have you got your own broom?" the boy went on.

"No," said Harri. "I've never flown before."

The boy looked aghast. "Are you Muggle-Born," the boy asked, looking scandalized.

There it was again, the strange reaction to all things muggle.

"My parents were a witch and wizard if that's what you mean," she said, "but I grew up with Muggles." She felt a little defiant about the way the boy had said Muggle-Born. Like it was a bad thing. Like it was beneath him.

"Why on Earth would you have grown up with Muggles? Where are your parents?" the boy asked with a slight sneer.

"They're dead," said Harri shortly. She didn't really want to keep talking to this boy.

"Oh sorry," he said, not sounding sorry at all. "What is your family name then?" he asked.

Before Harri could answer the assistant said to the pale boy, "That's you done, my dear," and the boy hopped down from the footstool.

"Well, I'll see you at Hogwarts I suppose," he said and left.

When they were alone in the back Madame Malkin said gently, "My mother was a Muggle."

Harri looked at her, startled that she would mention anything about that. "You'll meet a lot of people who dismiss everything Muggle," the seamstress went on. "But I know that my mother was brilliant. She taught me to sew and how to make clothing."

"My relatives," Harri said carefully, "they weren't the best kinds of Muggles. But I've met plenty of okay ones."

"There's plenty of good and bad everywhere," the witch agreed. "Now run along Miss. Potter. I have your measurements, and I'll be done with your things in a few hours."

Harri hadn't said her name to the witch, but she had clearly known all along who Harri was. She hadn't made Harri uncomfortable about it, which made her the nicest witch she'd met so far.

* * *

Harri was rather quiet as she ate the ice cream Hagrid had bought her (chocolate and raspberry with chopped nuts).

"What's up?" said Hagrid.

"I was raised by muggles," Harri said softly. "It's all I know. The muggle world. There is so much here to this wizard world. And it seems like everything I know is useless. Or looked down on. Because it's Muggle."

Hagrid flushed and had the grace to look a little embarrassed. He must have realized all that he had said that day about Muggles in a dismissive fashion.

"Don't worry about all that Harri. 'M sorry if I made you feel that way. I don' spend a lot o' time in the Muggle world."

Harri nodded, still thinking. "You'll be a great witch Harri, I'm sure of it," Hagrid assured her.

Looking up at Hagrid, Harri changed the subject. "What about these marks I keep hearing about?"

Hagrid looked deeply uncomfortable, but he explained. It was not easy to understand, but in the end, she thought she understood well enough. Magic gave everyone a match. They called it a soulmate. Hagrid wasn't certain if it had anything to do with souls. "A gift from the tree, I'd wager," he said gruffly, whatever that meant.

When a witch or wizard bonded with their wand, the first words their soulmate would say to them would be imprinted on their wrists. Their soulmate didn't have to be another magic user, a Muggle could say your words, but they wouldn't have words on their wrist. The words would be the first words ever said, so if one met their soulmate before eleven those words would be there. It could cause some confusion. There was a spell that confirmed that the mark was true, which often helped settle matters when marks were vague, but it was complicated and not often performed.

Hagrid described it as a gift. The most intimate relationship of your life. For that reason, the words were guarded very carefully. Always kept covered except in the presence of one's soulmate.

"Have you met your soulmate Hagrid?" Harri asked.

Hagrid blushed, "Yer not suppos'd to ask that Harri. It's all in the color. Silver means no, gold means yes."

"I'm sorry!" she exclaimed. Feeling almost as uncomfortable as Hagrid looked. She glanced down and saw the silver bandage, half hidden by Hagrid's large coat.

* * *

They bought Harri's school books in a shop called Flourish and Blotts where the shelves were stacked to the ceiling with books as large as paving stones bound in leather, books the size of postage stamps in covers of silk, and books full of peculiar symbols.

Hagrid had to drag Harri away from _Curses and Counter-Curses_ , but he did let Harri get _Hogwarts: A History_ and _Etiquette of the Wizarding World_ along with her course books.

Hagrid wouldn't let Harri buy a trunk with an extra room for storage. "You don't need somethin' like that," he said exasperatedly. But he did let her get one with three swapping compartments that disappeared and reappeared depending on which latch Harri opened. It had wheels as well, so Harri could trundle it along behind her.

Harri got her pewter cauldron, a nice set of scales, and a collapsible brass telescope. They visited the Apothecary, where Harri got the supplies needed for basic potions. Harri looked at unicorn horn and wondered how such a product was procured. They went back to Madam Malkins to pick up Harri's new clothing, which she happily placed into one of the trunk compartments.

"Just yer wand left- oh yeah, an' I still haven't got yeh a birthday present."

Harri felt herself go red.

"You don't have to-"

"I know I don't have to. Tell yeh what, I'll get yer animal. Not a toad, toads went outta fashion years ago. I don't like cats, they make me sneeze. I'll get yer an owl."

"Hagrid, it's not that I don't appreciate the offer. But I don't have anyone to write to. An owl would get very bored around me. And I happen to love cats. If you don't mind!"

Hagrid seemed a little uncertain but agreed when he saw her hopeful face. "Must be a witch thing," he muttered to himself.

Twenty minutes later, Harri was in possession of a handsome Tabby kitten. He was very sleek and very orange. The owner of the shop commented that the kitten was actually a kneazle, and would be much smarter than an average cat. Harri would have to look that up in her textbook. She was so pleased with the little fellow, and she couldn't stop thanking Hagrid.

Hagrid seemed a bit dubious about the cat but was happy to have made Harri happy.

'Don' mention it," said Hagrid gruffly. "Don' expect you've had a lotta presents from them Dursleys. Just Ollivanders, and yeh gotta have the best wand! Not teh mention," and here Hagrid glanced at Harri's bare wrist.

A magic wand… this was what Harri had been really looking forward to. She wasn't sure what she thought about the whole soulmark thing, but the wand. Magic! Controllable magic.

The last shop was narrow and shabby. Peeling gold letters over the door read Ollivanders: Makers of Fine Wands since 382 B.C. A single wand lay on a faded purple cushion in the dusty window.

A tinkling bell rang somewhere in the depths of the shop as they stepped inside. It was a tiny place, empty except for a single spindly chair that Hagrid sat on to wait. Harri felt very strange here. She could feel the magic swirling around. She could almost hear whispers from the different wands.

"Good afternoon," said a soft voice. Harri jumped. Hagrid must have jumped as well because there was a loud crunching noise and he got quickly off the spindly chair.

An old man was standing before them, his wide, pale eyes shining like moons through the gloom of the shop.

"Hello," said Harri awkwardly.

"Ah yes," said the man. "Yes, Yes. I thought I'd be seeing you soon. Harriet Potter." It wasn't a question. "You have your mother's hair. It seemed only yesterday she was here herself buying her first wand. Ten and a quarter inches long, swishy, made of willow. Nice wand for charm work." Harri wished suddenly for a notepad to write that down on. Had her mother been good at charms?

Mr. Ollivander moved closer to Harri. Harri wished he would blink. Those silvery eyes were a bit creepy.

"Your father, on the other hand, favored a mahogany wand. Eleven inches. Pliable. A little more power and excellent for transfiguration. Well, I say your father favored it-it's really the wand that chooses the wizard of course."

Mr. Ollivander had come so close that he and Harri were almost nose to nose. Harri could see herself reflected in those misty eyes.

"And that's where…."

Mr. Ollivander touched the lightning scar on Harri's forward with a long, white finger.

Instantly, Harri's shield of magic engulfed her. Mr. Ollivander was pushed back as Harri unconsciously pulled her magic around herself. She was nearly hyperventilating.

Mr. Ollivander only blinked. "Impressive. You're nearly invisible my girl. Well, that will make this process a bit easier. That certainly eliminates a fair few of my wands." he seemed very cheerful, not mad at all. He kept speaking, "I'm sorry to say that I sold the wand that did that to you," he said softly. "Thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Powerful wand, very powerful, and in the wrong hands… well, if I'd known what that wand was going out into the world to do…"

He shook his head. Harri tried to calm herself while Mr. Ollivander talked to Hagrid about his own wand. Her theory that it was concealed in Hagrid's pink umbrella was somewhat confirmed.

"Well, now- Miss. Potter. Let me see." He pulled out a thick black ribbon and had her hold out her left wrist. He wrapped the ribbon around and tied it off with practiced ease.

"Which arm is your wand arm?"

"Er- well, I'm right-handed," said Harri… and off the process went.

"Tricky customer, eh? Not to worry, we'll find the perfect match here somewhere- I wonder, now- yes, why not- unusual combination- holly and phoenix feather, eleven inches, nice and supple."

Harri took the wand. She felt a sudden warmth in her fingers. A burning on her wrist. She raised the wand above her head, brought it swishing down through the dusty air and a stream of red and gold sparks shot from the end like a firework, throwing dancing spots of light on to the walls. Hagrid whooped and clapped and Mr. Ollivander cried,

"Oh, bravo!"

"Curious… curious…" Mr. Ollivander muttered while he wrapped up her wand.

"I remember every wand I've ever sold, Miss Potter. Every single wand. It so happens that the phoenix whose tail feather is in your wand gave another feather- just one other. It is very curious indeed that you should be destined for this wand when its brother- why, its brother gave you that scar."

Harri was certain that she was nearly invisible again. This was the opposite of good news. This was horrible. Another link to Voldemort.

"Yes, thirteen-and-a-half inches. Yew. Curious indeed how these things happen. The wand chooses the wizard, remember… I think we must expect great things for you, Miss. Potter… After all, He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named did great things- terrible, yes, but great. Do keep in mind that a brother wand is a bond, not to be taken lightly."

A thought occurred to Harri. "He couldn't have been Voldemort when you sold him that wand," she said.

Mr. Ollivander got very still when she said the name. "No indeed," he said softly. But Hagrid interrupted.

"Enough of that Harri," and pulled her out of the shop after she had paid.

* * *

The late afternoon sun hung low in the sky as Harri and Hagrid made their way back down Diagon Alley, back through the wall, and back into the Leaky Cauldron.

"Hagrid," she said gently. "I don't want to go back to the Dursleys. Do you think I could stay here?"

Hagrid looked very uncertain about this course of action. But he saw her face. He had seen how Harri reacted to sudden touches, too much attention, and loud noises.

"Le's talk to Tom 'bout that," he said gruffly.

It was only later, in the privacy of the room she had rented at the Leaky Cauldron, that Harri was finally alone. She removed the ribbon Mr. Ollivander had wrapped around her wrist to see the words that should have appeared once her wand bonded.

The words 'Avada Kedavra' glared at her in emerald green.

Harri's heart dropped.


	5. Invisus: The Journey From Platform

It couldn't be.

Simply could not be. Harri wanted to scream. To rage. To blow everything up into bits. How was this possible?

 _Avada Kedavra_ stared back at her.

Was it possible she was misremembering what Hagrid had told her about the killing curse? Was there a way to find out? Where would such a spell me listed? Harri was sure it wasn't among her first-year school books.

She did have one book that might help though. The recommended soulmark books. The information was limited at best. The book wasn't more than 30 pages and was really more a pamphlet for muggle-born students. The black ribbon was used to cover a wrist while the wand bonded. Then, once the child had looked at their words, was (traditionally) replaced by either a silver or gold cover. Silver if the words were still unsaid, gold if a match had occurred.

There was nothing in the book that was helpful for the question of, 'What to do if your soulmark matches you with the Dark Lord who murdered your parents?'.

She was feeling a bit hysterical. In an odd sort of humor, she wondered if she should wear the gold covering. Her words had been said, apparently. Harri started to laugh and then began to cry.

She cried until she fell asleep on her bed, her new tabby kitten perched watchfully next to her.

* * *

The next day Harri, dressed in her new clothes, went back to Diagon Alley. She even got to use her new wand to open the wall.

Her first order of business was to buy a wrist covering to replace the black ribbon which seemed dangerously fragile. She didn't want anyone to ever know what her words were. She found a cart that sold pretty and feminine bangles that clasped firmly around the wrist. For five sickles a silver one belonged to her (tarnish proof, so she could even wear it even in the shower). As privately as she could in the back of Flourish and Blotts, Harri replaced the ribbon. No one saw, and as far as Harri was concerned no one needed to ever see her wrist again.

Her second order of business was to find the spell. As discreetly as she could Harri began to look through different texts. _A Guide to Dark Forces_ didn't have the spell. Neither did _Darkest Works_. Though both had some rather gruesome pictures.

Finally, in _The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ Harri found mention of the spell. It was exactly what she feared.

 _'It has long been believed that Harriet Potter was subjected to The Killing Curse (A. kedavra) by the Dark Lord. The reported scar that she received was examined by Albus Dumbledore after the event and was the basis for of the theory. Dumbledore's testimony, along with countless wizards and witches being freed from various curses, has led to the commonly held belief that Harriet Potter is the only known survivor of the Killing Curse, and that somehow this 'rebounding effect' is what ended the reign of the Dark Lord.'_

Harri could feel her magic thrumming in her ears. It was beating with her heart. She took a deep breath. Calmed herself. This was bad news, but it could certainly be worse. By all accounts, her soulmate was very dead. Or at least as close to dead as someone could be. There was no reason to get worked up. It could be her secret.

Harri had always thought of herself as unlovable. Years of poor treatment by the Dursleys had ingrained that belief into her. Her entrance into the magical world had tested her theory. It seemed that everyone loved her here. But now she had a secret that no one could know. Because if the world knew the truth Harri would be unlovable again.

* * *

Harri spent the remaining month of summer in a state of bliss. She resolutely ignored the marking on her wrist and had not looked at it since she had placed the silver bracelet on it.

She had happily read through all of her textbooks seated in sunlight at Florean Fortescue's Ice Cream Parlour. Fortescue was a happy wizard, who gladly let Harri take up a table. She learned a stunning amount of information. From _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ that her little Kneazle kitten was a loyal pet and that they had the uncanny ability to sense deception. Also from _Fantastic Beasts,_ Harri found the name Gulliver, used in the dedication to a famous naturalist of birds.

Gulliver was a happy kitten but grew quickly. Soon he was too large to ride around on Harri's shoulder. He seemed happy to prowl near her most of the time. He never wandered far and seemed to be hungry most of the time. As such he had become a prolific thief of her food.

Tom the barkeep made sure that Harri ate her meals, and didn't seem bothered at all that an eleven-year-old girl was staying at his inn for a month. Harri had paid upfront, but she was sure Tom had undercharged her. Harri wasn't used to charity and wasn't sure how to respond.

Harri also wandered into muggle London. She exchanged some of her gold for pounds and went to the bookstore and music store that were both located outside of the Cauldron. Harri had never owned a guitar before but was now the proud owner of one (not to mentioned an unseemly amount of sheet music). She bought shoes and more clothes at a department store. She even got new glasses that suited her face shape better. Harri was much happier with her appearance. She felt like she finally blended in, wearing simple clean clothes that suited her. She was invisible, no one would look at her and wonder about her appearance.

Every night before she went to sleep, Harri ticked off another day on the piece of paper she had pinned to the wall, counting down to September first.

* * *

On the last day of August, she thought she'd better speak to Tom about getting to King's Cross Station the next day, so she went down to the bar.

"Um, excuse me. Mr. Tom," Harri stuttered.

"Yes, my dear," Tom said with his toothless smile.

"Tomorrow I need to get to King's Cross. Do you know the best way for me to accomplish that?" she asked.

"Oh, happens all the time! I'll order you a car that will take you to the station tomorrow morning!"

Relieved that it would be that simple, Harri thanked the barkeep for all he had done for her over the last month. "I may be back for some of next summer," she said half-jokingly.

Tom had a flash of concern cross his face but didn't say anything but a hum. Harri wondered if she had given too much away. If her home life had become too apparent. Everyone seemed to know that she had been sent to live with muggles. She didn't want to give the wrong impression about the muggle world, but she also didn't want to go back to her relatives.

Harri looked down at her ticket before setting off for the station the next morning. "Oh," she exclaimed. "Mr. Tom, what is platform 9 ¾?"

"It's the hidden entrance," he explained. "Just got through at one of the barriers between platforms 9 and 10."

Harri made it to King's Cross with plenty of time to spare. She was even able to slide through the magic barrier without too much trepidation.

A scarlet steam engine was waiting next to the platform packed with people. A sign overhead said Hogwarts Express, eleven o'clock. Harri looked behind her and saw a wrought iron archway where the barrier had been, with the words _Platform Nine and Three-Quarters_ on it. She had done it.

Smoke from the engine drifted over the heads of the chattering crowd, while cats of every color wound here and there between their legs. Gulliver was perched on Harri's trunk and didn't seem overly inclined to move. Harri pushed her cart off down the platform in search on an empty seat. She passed a bushy haired girl who was accompanied by very concerned looking parents.

"Now Hermione, do find a way to write. Do you think there are… owls? There?" the mother asked, clearly confused.

"I'm not sure mum," the girl confessed. She must be a first year, Harri thought, maybe a Muggle-Born. They look like Muggles. The girl's parents looked much more normal compared to the other adults that were around. They wore very smart business clothing. A far cry from the robes everyone else was wearing.

The bushy haired girl caught Harri looking at her family, and gave a slight smile. Harri tried to smile back, though she was embarrassed at being caught listening in. Her father noticed where the girl was looking. He glanced around, furrowed his brow, and spoke to Harri, "Do you need help getting your trunk on the train?"

Harri hadn't thought about getting her trunk off the platform, but now that it occurred to her she realized it was far too heavy for her to lift alone. "Yes, thank you so much," she replied.

The family walked over. "Hermione is sitting in this compartment," the mother said. "Are you a first year too?"

The bushy haired girl, Hermione, looked abashed that her mother was trying to make a friend for her. "Mum…" she started but trailed off as Harri held out her hand.

"Hi Hermione, I'm Harri. I'm new too. And basically Muggle-Born" she said. Harri hoped her smile didn't look forced, because the prospect of sitting near someone who also had no idea what was going on was very appealing.

A look of relief passed over the mother's face, and Hermione also seemed to relax. "Hello Harri," she responded. "Me as well. Nobody in my family's magic at all, it was ever such a surprise when I got my letter, but I was ever so pleased, of course, I mean, it's the best school of witchcraft there is, I've heard-" she trailed off looking abashed. She had a bossy sort of voice but was clearly as uncertain as Harri.

"I've heard that as well," Harri said. "I read about it in…" and here Hermione joined her, "... _Hogwarts a History_."

By this point, Hermione's father had returned. "Well, it seems you've made a friend here, Hermione. Dan Granger," he said to Harri, introducing himself.

"It's a pleasure to meet you both, Mr. and Mrs. Granger," Harri replied.

"Are your parents about," Mrs. Granger asked looking around.

"No," Harri responded. She didn't have a good response to this question and never had. What did you tell people? That your parents were dead? That they couldn't make it? "I live with my relative," she decided on. "They couldn't' stay."

The Grangers were very kind and talked to Harri for a few more moments. But before long it was a quarter till, and Harri went to the compartment so the family could say their goodbyes.

Hermione joined her shortly. "I'm sorry about that," she said. "You don't have to sit here if you don't want to."

"No, I'm happy to sit here!" Harri responded, who had never had a friend before and wasn't really sure how to make one.

Hermione looked relieved and then launched into a long discussion of their course books- that she had memorized by heart. Harri had read through them all, but was a far shot off from memorizing them. She was slightly in awe of the other girl, who seemed to have a photographic memory.

"Have you tried any magic yet?" Hermione asked. "I've tried a few simple spells and its all worked for me."

"Not really," Harri replied. "I've done a lot of accidental magic through the years. I wasn't really sure where to start. I didn't want to blow something up."

Hermione nodded sagely. "I was a bit concerned about that myself."

The train began to move. "Do you know what house you'll be in?" Harri asked her. She had read about them.

"I think Gryffindor sounds by far the best," Hermione said. "But I think Ravenclaw could be a contender as well."

Harri nodded. "I honestly don't know," she confessed. "I'm not exactly outgoing or brave. And I like to read, but I don't know about witty. Maybe I'll be a Hufflepuff," she said with a laugh

"Not Slytherin?" Hermione asked.

Harri shook her head. "I doubt it. I'm not ambitious or cunning. I think I'd like to make some friends and learn enough magic to make my parents proud."

Hermione looked confused. "Your parents? Do you all live with your relatives?"

Harri realized she had brought this on herself, but if anyone was going to have a minimal reaction it was a Muggle-Born. "My parents are dead," Harri stated.

"Oh! I'm so sorry," Hermione exclaimed.

"It was when I was a baby," Harri said. "I don't remember them. Honestly, I didn't even know their names until a month ago!" Harri said, with an attempted laugh to lighten the situation. She instantly regretted saying that though. It was another one of those not normal things that slipped out sometimes. One of her comments that labeled her as strange. As someone to be pitied. The poor neglected girl.

Hermione did have the look for a moment. Then there seemed to be some resolve in her face. Her bossy look returned. "Well, that's just horrible! Your relatives must be awful."

It was the best reaction she could have had. Harri smiled. "Yes, they are. I stayed at the Leaky Cauldron for a month once I found out I was a witch. I didn't want to go back."

"They let you do that? Isn't there some kind of Child Protective Services in the wizarding world?" Hermione asked.

"Not that I've seen," Harri responded. "Otherwise…" she trailed off. _Otherwise, they would have come for me_ was what she left unsaid.

"They really should have such a thing," Hermione began, and then went on to discuss the failings she had noticed so far in the magical Ministry. She had done a fair amount of research and already had several reform proposals. Harri couldn't keep up. She had never met a girl like Hermione Granger.

When Hermione trailed off she looked a little embarrassed again. "I'm sorry," she said. "I know no one likes when I do that."

Harri shook her head, "No! You know a lot. I don't know anything about the wizarding world. Only what I've read. And you've read so much more! There should be an encyclopedia for Muggle-Borns. There is so much I don't know."

To this Hermione had a great deal more to say, but the conversation settled on soulmarks quickly enough. They both understood it was very gauche to discuss, but seeing as they hadn't had family members to talk about this with, they spoke with each other.

"Do you think it's all a bit hokey," Hermione asked Harri. "Soulmates? It seems like something out of a fairy story."

"And going to magic school doesn't?" Harri asked with a little laugh.

"I suppose I just don't understand all the secrecy. It's supposed to be the most important part of someone's life, and I couldn't get anyone to talk to me about it. And that BOOK! IT was only 32 pages!" Hermione was clearly affronted that she couldn't research the topic into submission.

Just then, the compartment opened. A round-faced boy entered. "Excuse me, but have you see a toad? I've lost mine."

"No we haven't," Harri said.

"But we can help you look!" Hermione said. Her voice had gotten its bossy tone back, and she was ready for a task. "We should go ahead and change into our robes, and we'll help you look!"

The round-faced boy looked relieved. "That would be great," he said. "My name is Neville. Neville Longbottom."

"Hermione Granger," Hermione said.

"Harri," said Harri, not saying her last name. She didn't need to apparently, as Neville's eyes flicked up to Harri's scar. He didn't say anything though.

Harri and Hermione quickly changed and left Gulliver in charge of the compartment. They would hopefully return soon once the toad was found. It was quickly apparent that nobody had seen a toad though.

Harri and Hermione came to a compartment that held a single redhead boy eating sandwiches. "Have you seen a toad? Neville's lost one," said Hermione.

"I already told him that I haven't seen it," said the boy.

"Are you a first year too?" Harri asked, noticing that he didn't look all that old. He nodded, looking glum.

"Ron Weasley," he said, introducing himself.

"I'm Hermione Granger," Hermione said introducing herself.

"I'm Harri," said Harri, stepping into the compartment.

Ron's eyes looked up at Harri's forehead. "Are you really?" he asked.

Harri went pink, but Hermione's eyes narrowed.

"Is she really who?" Hermione asked.

"Well… you know. Harriet Potter." Ron said, looking a little aghast at having to explain himself. He pointed at Harri's forehead.

Harri gently beckoned Hermione into the compartment and slid the door shut. "Yes, I am," she said to both of them finally.

Ron looked confused, perhaps thinking that Harriet Potter wasn't a secret and Harri was being silly.

Hermione, on the other hand, looked like she was trying to remember every instance she had read Harri's name in the last summer. "You're in _Modern Magical History, The Rise and Fall of the Dark Arts_ , and _Great Wizarding Events of the Twentieth Century_."

Harri went from pink to red. "I've only read one of them."

Hermione looked like she wanted to keep talking about it but abruptly shut her mouth. She shrugged. "I can understand why you didn't want to look further into it."

Ron, on the other hand, asked a rather boyish question, "Do you remember any of it?"

Hermione rounded on him, "Of course she doesn't. She was just a baby," Ron shrank back.

Harri just shrugged. "Well I remember a lot of green light, but nothing else," she said.

"Wow," said Ron. He stared at Harri for a few moments, and then looked away. "Well like I said, I haven't seen a toad anywhere."

Harri didn't think Ron seemed so bad, plus he was obviously from one of those old wizarding families. He probably knew loads of things about magic already! "Well, I was thinking about buying some candy from the trolly. Would you like to join us to eat some?"

Ron's ears went pink.

"No," he muttered. "I brought sandwiches."

"I'll swap you then!" Harri said with a smile. Harri had never had anything to share before, or indeed, anyone to share it with. It was a nice feeling.

"You don't want these. They're dry. My mum doesn't have a lot of time. There are five of us at home."

"You have four siblings! And all of you are magic?" Hermione asked in excitement

"Six, actually," Ron replied with a grimace.

Harri grinned at Ron. "Honestly Ron, we'd love to pick yours and Neville's brains about magic. Hermione and I grew up with Muggles."

"What are they like?" Ron asked.

"Horrible- well, not all of them. My aunt and uncle and cousin are, though."

Hermione nodded. "I think it's the same in most places. Some people are bad and some are good."

Eventually, Hermione and Harri were able to cajole Ron to join their compartment. Having already searched their half of the train and found no sign of Trevor, Harri went with Ron to their compartment. Hermione went in search of Neville to ask him to join them in their compartment, and to ask the conductor how long it would be until they arrived. Harri and Ron made a stop by the Trolly on their way.

Harri had never gotten to buy candy before. Now that she had pockets rattling with gold and silver she was ready to buy as many Mars Bars as she could carry- but the trolly woman didn't have Mars Bars. What she did have were Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Beans, Drooble's Best Blowing Gum, Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, Cauldron Cakes, Licorice Wands, and a number of other strange things Harri had never seen in her life. She bought a little bit of everything.

It took both Harri and Ron to carry her haul back to the compartment, their arms overflowing with treats.

Harri quite enjoyed the Pumpkin Pasties.

When Hermione joined them with Neville, she made a sniffing sound at the sight of all the candy. Harri just grinned with Ron, pleased at the mountain of sweets.

"My parents are both dentists," Hermione said, as delicately held a Cauldron Cake. "I've never been allowed sweets before."

Hermione seemed to take her new freedom for granted, only partaking in a single sweet. Neville was quite put out with losing Trevor and didn't seem to have much of an appetite for candy at first, but after picking at the pile he began to join in with gusto.

Harri enjoyed the chocolate frog cards more than the chocolate frogs. After eating more sweets than she had ever eater in her life, she was beginning to feel a bit ill. There was no deterring Ron though, and eventually, he and Neville were the main partakers.

"So this is Dumbledore!" said Harri, holding up a Chocolate Frog card.

"Don't tell me you'd never heard of Dumbledore!" said Ron.

Harri turned over her card and read:

Albus Dumbledore

Lord of Light

Currently Headmaster of Hogwarts

 _Considered by many the greatest wizard of modern times, Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the Dark Lord Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicholas Flamel. Professor Dumbledore enjoys chamber music and tenpin bowling._

Harri turned the card back over and saw, to her astonishment, that Dumbledore's face had disappeared.

"He's gone!"

"What?" Hermione exclaimed, leaning over to look at the empty card.

"Well, you can't expect him to hang around all day," said Ron. "He'll be back."

"In the Muggle world, people just stay put in photos," said Harri.

"How on Earth does this work?" Hermione asked. "Is there a specific spell or potion that you put on the photos when developing?"

Ron and Neville just shrugged. This was mundane to them. Hermione looked quite put out that they didn't know details.

As the train went on they all learned about each other's families. Ron was the sixth child out of seven. He had five older brothers. Harri couldn't imagine what that was like. He looked rather gloomy when talking about them though.

"You could say I've got a lot to live up to. Bill and Charlie have already left- Bill was head boy and Charlie was captain of the Quidditch team. Now Percy's a prefect. Fred and George mess around a lot, but they still get really good marks and everyone thinks they're really funny. Everyone expects me to do as well as the others, but if I do, it's no big deal, because they did it first. You never get anything new, either, with five brothers. I've got Bill's old robes, Charlie's old wand, and Percy's old rat."

Ron reached inside his jacket and pulled out a fat gray rat, which was asleep.

Gulliver instantly began hissing.

Ron looked dubiously at the cat, and slid his rat back into his jacket. "His name's Scabbers and he's useless, he hardly ever wakes up. Percy got an owl from my dad for being made a prefect, but they couldn't aff- I mean, I got Scabbers instead."

Ron's ears went pink. He seemed to think he'd said too much because he started staring out the window. Harri, who always seemed to say too much, knew the embarrassment Ron was feeling. But she didn't think there was anything wrong with not being able to afford an owl. She'd never had any money in her life until a month ago, and she told Ron so. All about having to wear Dudley's old clothes and never getting birthday presents. This seemed to cheer Ron up, but Hermione and Neville looked a little horrified.

"... and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about being a wizard really. Or my parents. Or Voldemort-"

Ron and Neville both gasped.

"What?" asked Hermione.

"She said _You-Know-Who's name!_ " said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed.

"People just don't say it," Neville said in a tremulous voice.

"I'm not trying to be brave or anything, saying the name," said Harri. "I just never knew you shouldn't. I've got so much to learn," she said sadly. Shaking her head.

"But he's been dead for ten years," Hermione said, looking confused. "Why would everyone still be afraid of saying the name?"

"A lot of families were very hurt by him and the Death Eaters," said Neville looking sad. "It's not that they're afraid I think. It just brings back a lot of bad memories."

Neville had already mentioned that his Gran had brought him up. Harri wondered if he was speaking from personal experience.

"I just don't know anything," Harri said in frustration. "I bet I'm the worst in the class."

"You won't be. There are loads of people who come from Muggle families and they learn quick enough," said Ron.

Hermione looked relieved, clearly, she had been very worried about being left behind in the curriculum.

Eventually, the subject turned away from that, with Hermione quizzing Neville and Ron about the finer points of wizard society. They learned that Ron's father worked for the Ministry, but he didn't seem to know any of the specifics. Both were looking increasingly annoyed at each other.

Neville finally cut in, "Did you hear about Gringotts? It's been all over the _Daily Prophet_ , but I don't suppose you get that with the Muggles- someone tried to rob a high-security vault."

Harri stared. She should have heard something about that considering her proximity to the bank for the last month.

"Really? What happened to them?" she asked.

"Nothing, that's why it's such big news. They haven't been caught. My dad says it must've been a powerful Dark wizard to get round Gringotts but they don't think they took anything, that's what's odd. 'Course everyone gets scared when something like this happens in case You-Know-Who's behind it." said Ron.

"My Gran says that they must have been right mad. She says that they're are all kinds of spells and enchantments down there. That the cart dissolves if you try to take something," explained Neville.

There was a slight lull in the conversation at that. Harri and Hermione didn't have anything to add to conversations about Bank Security.

"What's your Quidditch team?" Ron asked to fill the silence.

"What's Quidditch?" asked Hermione. Ron looked aghast. He looked at Harri, who also shook her head. Neville looked equally shocked.

"It's the best game in the world!" Ron exclaimed. And he was off, explaining all about the four balls and the positions of the seven players, describing famous games he'd been to with his brothers and the broomstick he'd like to get if he had the money. Neville would chime in occasionally, and the boys got in a light debate over the merits of the Cannons vs. the Harpies.

The compartment door slid open, and three boys entered. Harri recognized the middle one at once: it was the pale boy from Madam Malkin's robe shop. He was looking a bit bored, but said in his drawl, "I'm looking for Hermione."

Hermione looked absolutely shocked.

"I'm Hermione," she said, fixing the boy with an amazed stare.

The boy instantly perked up. "Are you really? Well, I'm Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." He looked like he expected some flash of recognition to cross Hermione's face, but it didn't.

"I'm Hermione Granger," she said, introducing herself with a shy smile.

"Granger? Are you related to the Dagworth-Granger family?" he asked.

"No," Hermione said, "I'm not related to any magic users. I'm Muggle-Born." Draco Malfoy looked horrified.

" _What!?"_ he exclaimed in horror. "Then it can't be _you_." Then he stormed out, taking the two other boys with him.

Hermione look shell shocked for a long beat, hen she looked like she was about to cry. No one in the compartment knew what to say.

Neville was the first to speak, "I'm sorry Hermione. It goes that way sometimes." Hermione just shook her head, looking down at her lap.

Ron couldn't meet Hermione's eyes and was looking out the window, seeming very embarrassed. It took Harri a moment, but she finally understood what had happened. "Was that your soulmate?" Harri asked.

Both Ron and Neville went pink. Right, that was something that you weren't supposed to talk about.

Hermione continued to look down. "I guess. Maybe," she said in a whisper.

"I've heard of his family," said Ron darkly. "They were some of the first to come back to our side after You-Know-Who disappeared. Said they'd been bewitched. My dad doesn't believe it. He says Malfoy's father didn't need an excuse to go over to the Dark Side."

"So…" Hermione said quietly, "So they would have a rather large problem with a Muggle-Born. Wouldn't they."

Ron and Neville both nodded. Harri was horrified. "But you're clearly brilliant. Why should that matter at all?" Harri asked. She felt the itch inside of her. The anger. "I don't understand this at all. The Muggle world isn't bad. It's just different. Yet half of everyone I meet seems to have a problem with it."

"Blood purity matters to some families," Neville explained. "My family, the Longbottoms, and Ron's, the Weasleys, they're known as blood-traitors. Because we associate with Muggle-Borns. Yours too, Harri, if I'm remembering my lessons right."

"They refer to us as the wrong sort too," Ron said with a smile. "They're right gits, those old Slytherin families."

Harri was certain of one thing now, as they worked to cheer up Hermione. She wanted nothing to do with Slytherin if this was how they treated her new friends.

* * *

It was about an hour later when a voice echoed through the train: "We will be reaching Hogwarts in five minutes' time. Please leave your luggage on the train, it will be taken to the school separately."

Gulliver, who was asleep in Harri's lap, seemed quite affronted that Harri might leave him. His claws sunk into Harri's trousers as she tried to pull the cat off. "Stay in your basket, buddy. I think they're taking you where you're supposed to go."

The cat growled and hissed, but eventually consented.

The train slowed down to a stop. People pushed their way toward the door and out on to a tiny platform. Harri shivered in the cold night air. Then a lamp came bobbing over the heads of the students, and Harri heard a familiar voice:

"Firs' years! Firs' years over there! All right there, Harri?'"

Hagrid's big hairy face beamed over the sea of heads.

"C'mon, follow me- any more firs' years? Mind yer step, now! Firs' years follow me!"

Slipping and stumbling they followed Hagrid down what seemed to be a steep, narrow path. It was so dark on either side of them that Harri thought there must be thick trees there. Nobody spoke much. Neville sniffed once or twice.

"Yeh'll get yer firs' sight o'Hogwarts in a sec," Hagrid called over his shoulder, "jus round this bend here."

There was a loud "Oooooh!"

The narrow path had opened suddenly onto the edge of a great black lake. Perched atop a high mountain on the other side, its windows sparkling in the starry sky, was a vast castle with many turrets and towers.

"No more'n four to a boat!" Hagrid called, pointing to a fleet of little boats sitting in the water by the shore. Harri, Ron, Hermione, and Neville all got into one.

"Everyone in?" shouted Hagrid, who had a boat to himself. "Right then- FORWARD!"

And the fleet of little boats moved off all at once, gliding across the lake, which was as smooth as glass. Everyone was silent, staring up at the great castle overhead. It towered over them as they sailed nearer and nearer to the cliff on which it stood.

"Heads down!" yelled Hagrid as the first boats reached the cliff face. They all bent their heads and the little boats carried them through a curtain of ivy that hid a wide opening. They were carried along a dark tunnel, which seemed to be taking them right underneath the castle until they reached a kind of underground harbor, where they climbed out onto rocks and pebbles.

"Oy, you there! Is this your toad?" said Hagrid, who was checking the boats as people climbed out of them.

"Trevor!" cried Neville blissfully, holding out his hands. Then they clambered up a passageway in the rock after Hagrid's lamp, coming out at last onto smooth, damp grass right in the shadow of the castle.

They walked up a flight of stone steps and crowded around the huge oak front door.

"Everyone here? You there, still got yer toad?"

Hagrid raised a gigantic fist and knocked three times on the castle door.


	6. Invisus: The Sorting Hat

The door swung open at once. A tall, black-haired witch in emerald-green robes stood there. She had a very stern face and Harri's first thought was that this was not someone to cross.

"The firs' years, Professor McGonagall," said Hagrid.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I will take them from here," she said in a strong Scottish brogue.

She pulled the door wide. The entrance hall was so big you could have fit the whole of the Dursleys' house in it. The stone walls were lit with flaming torches like the ones at Gringotts, the ceiling was too high to make out, and a magnificent marble staircase facing them led to the upper floors.

They followed Professor McGonagall across the flagged stone floor. Harri could hear the drone of hundreds of voices from a doorway to the right- the rest of the school must already be here- but Professor McGonagall showed the first years into a small, empty chamber off the hall. They crowded in, standing rather closer together than they would usually have done, peering about nervously.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," said Professor McGonagall. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room."

Harri was suddenly very aware that she, Hermione, Ron, and Neville could all be separated now. They might be in different houses. Just when she had made friends, she might lose them. A queasy feeling started to build in her stomach.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rule-breaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours."

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting."

Her eyes lingered for a moment on Nevile's cloak, which was fastened under his left ear, and on Ron's smudged nose. Harri nervously began to run her fingers through her hair.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said Professor McGonagall. "Please wait quietly."

She left the chamber. Harri swallowed.

"How exactly do they sort us into houses?" she asked Ron.

"Some sort of test, I think. Fred said it hurts a lot, but I think he was joking."

Harri's heart gave a horrible jolt. A test? In front of the whole school? But she didn't know how to control any of her magic yet. She started to breathe a little faster and felt her magic pull close around her. It was comforting. All her magic close, keeping her small and unnoticed.

"Harri," Hermione said quietly so no one else could hear, "Is there a reason you've started to go transparent?"

Harri looked down and saw that she had done it again. Would these feelings ever get under control? Or would she do this every time she felt overwhelmed or frightened? She took several deep breaths and tried to get her heart rate under control. Her magic began to flow again. She returned to being solidly visible.

"How did you do that?" Hermione asked in awe.

"It's not something I mean to do," Harri replied quietly. "It's just… I hate being in front of people. Of having people look at me."

Everyone around them was far too busy looking terrified to have noticed Harri's magical snafu. Hermione reached down and took Harri's hand and gave it a little squeeze. Amazingly, considering Harri didn't really like people touching her, this helped a good deal.

Hermione began whispering very fast about all the spells she'd learned. Harri couldn't keep up, but she liked the reassurance of Hermione's hand in hers. "If anyone doesn't need to smarten up, it's you, Hermione," Harri whispered to her. Hermione gave her a soft smile.

Then something happened that made Harri jump about a foot in the air- several people behind her yelped "What the-"

She gasped and felt her magic taking on a static quality. The people around her gasped as well. About twenty ghosts had just streamed through the back wall. Pearly-white and slightly transparent, they glided across the room talking to one another and hardly glancing at the first years. They seemed to be arguing. What looked like a fat little monk was saying: "Forgive and forget, I say, we out to give him a second chance-"

"My dear Friar, haven't we given Peeves all the chances he deserves? He gives us all a bad name and you know, he's not really even a ghost- I say what are you all doing here?"

A ghost wearing a ruff and tights had suddenly noticed the first years.

Nobody answered.

"New students!" said the Fat Friar, smiling around at them. "About to be sorted, I suppose?"

A few people nodded mutely.

"Hope to see you in Hufflepuff!" said the Friar. "My old house, you know."

"Move along now," said a sharp voice. "The Sorting Ceremony is about to start."

Professor McGonagall had returned. One by one, the ghosts floated away through the opposite wall.

"Now, form a line," Professor McGonagall told the first years, "and follow me."

Feeling oddly as though her legs had turned to lead, Harri got into line behind a boy with sandy hair, with Ron behind her, and they walked out the chamber, back across the hall, and through a pair of double doors into the Great Hall.

Harri had never imagined such a strange and splendid place. She had read about it in _Hogwarts a History_ but nothing had prepared her for the reality of it all. It was lit by thousands and thousands of candles that were floating in mid-air over for long tables, where the rest of the students were sitting. The tables were laid with glittering golden plates and goblets. At the top of the hall was another long table where the teachers were sitting. Professor McGonagall led the first years up there so that they came to a halt in a line facing the other students, with the teachers behind them. The hundreds of faces staring at them looked like pale lanterns in the flickering candlelight. Dotted here and there among the students, the ghosts shone misty silver. Mainly to avoid all the string eyes, Harri looked upward and saw the starry ceiling. It was more beautiful than she could have dreamed.

It was hard to believe that there was a ceiling there at all. It felt like the Great Hall opened up to the heavens itself. This open, non-claustrophobic hall, made it much easier for Harri to remain calm despite the many eyes upon her.

Harri noticed finally that everyone was staring at a hat that McGonagall had placed of a stool. She couldn't imagine what was expected of them to do with the hat. But before she could come up with any ideas, the hat twitched. A rip near the brim opened wide like a mouth- and the hat began to sing.

When it was done, the whole hall burst into applause. It bowed to each of the four tables and then became quite still again.

"So we've just got to try on the hat!" Ron whispered to Harri. "I'll kill Fred, he was going on about wrestling a troll."

Harri smiled weakly, and she noticed quite a few relieved faces. Yes, this was much better than trying to control her magic and do a spell. Though she did wish she didn't have to try it on with everyone watching. What if it didn't sort her at all? Said that she was too untamed and too dangerous for Hogwarts.

Professor McGonagall now stepped forward holding a long roll of parchment.

"When I call your name, you will put on the hat and sit on the stool to be sorted," she said. "Abbott, Hannah!"

And on it went. Hannah Abbott became a Hufflepuff, as did Susan Bones. Terry Boot and Mandy Brocklehurst were both Ravenclaws. Lavender Brown became the first new Gryffindor.

Millicent Bulstrode went to Slytherin and Justin Finch-Fletchley to Hufflepuff. Seamus Finnigan, the sandy-haired boy ahead of Harri, went to Gryffindor.

Sometimes the hat took a long time to decide, and that was the case for Hermione. The hat was on her head for long minutes before declaring her a Gryffindor. Ron groaned, but Harri elbowed him.

Eventually, it was Neville's turn and he also became a Gryffindor. Harri had a goal now. She too would get into Gryffindor. That house valued bravery right? A horrible thought hit her. She wasn't brave at all. What if the hat started laughing at her for wanting to be in Gryffindor. Laughed at her in front of the whole school.

Hermione's horrible soulmate, Draco Malfoy, was made a Slytherin. He seemed to have lost some of his swagger from the robe shop.

On and on it went, until finally, it was Harri's turn.

"Potter, Harriet"

As Harri stepped forward, the whispers suddenly broke out like little hissing fires all over the hall.

"Potter, did she say?"

" _The_ Harriet Potter?"

Harri's face was fully red and she was doing her best to hold her magic back. The temptation was great though, to go into a cocoon of magic and hide away from all the whispers.

The last thing Harri saw before the hat dropped over her eyes was Hermione looking at her with an encouraging smile. She waited.

"Hmm," said a small voice in her ear. "Difficult. Very difficult. You aren't what they expected, are you, my dear."

"No," Harri thought back. "I think they expected someone a lot braver than I am."

"Oh there's plenty of courage, I see. No no, my dear. I meant that the wolves are at the door. And you, you've spent your whole life listening to them howl." Harri didn't know what the hat meant. She was just a small girl, and the wizarding world seemed to expect a very brave hero.

"Hmm… you'll understand in time I think. Not a bad mind, you know. You learn for a purpose, not for the love of knowledge. There's more talent than you'll know what to do with. And a soft heart- oh, my dear, you do just want a safe place don't you?"

"More than anything," thought Harri, thinking about Hermione's smile. Her hand in Harri's. Harri's first friend. Of Neville's shy explanations. Of Ron's enthusiastic bombasticness.

"Well, in that case, there is really only one place for you. The snakes would do nothing but make you miserable. Better be... GRYFFINDOR"

Harri heard the hat shout the last word so the whole hall could hear. She was relieved. She walked right over to Hermione, and the two girls hugged. Harri sat down and was introduced to Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil, the two other Gryffindor first year girls. Neville was across from her, and Harri saved a seat for Ron. Who was indeed sorted into Gryffindor the moment the hat touched his head.

Harri couldn't have been happier.

* * *

After the banquet, where Harri ate as much as she could, they made their way to Gryffindor tower. The first years were following Percy, Ron's brother, through the chattering crowds, out of the Great Hall, and up the marble staircase. Harri's legs were like lead again, but only because she was so tired.

After leading them through doorways hidden behind sliding panels and hanging tapestries, and climbing staircase after staircase, Harri was wondering how much further they had to go when they came to a sudden halt.

A bundle of walking sticks was floating in midair ahead of them, and as Percy took a step toward them they started throwing themselves at him.

"Peeves," Percy whispered to the first years. "A poltergeist." He raised his voice, "Peeves, show yourself."

A loud rude sound, like the air being let out of a balloon, answered.

"Do you want me to go to the Bloody Baron?"

There was a pop, and a little man with wicked, dark eyes and a wide mouth appeared, floating cross-legged in the air clutching the walking sticks.

"Ooooh!," he said, with an evil cackle. "Ickle Firsties! What fun!"

Percy eventually got Peeves to leave them be, and eventually, they reached the end of the corridor where a portrait hung of a very fat woman in a pink silk dress.

"Password?" she asked.

"Caput Draconis," said Percy, and the portrait swung forward to reveal a round hole in the wall. They all scrambled through it- Neville needed a leg up- and found themselves in the Gryffindor common room, a cozy round room full of squashy armchairs.

Percy directed the girls through one door to their dormitory and the boys through another. At the top of a spiral staircase- they were obviously in one of the towers- they found their beds at last: four four-posters hung with deep red, velvet curtains. Their trunks had already been brought up. Too tired to talk much, they pulled on their pajamas and fell into bed.

Gulliver made his purring presence known quite quickly and snuggled into the crook of Harri's legs. Harri was going to ask Hermione… something… but she fell asleep almost at once.

Perhaps Harri had eaten too much food because she never ate much at all usually, but her dream was very strange. Professor Quirrell, who had appeared at the feast in a large purple turban (unlike when they had met at the Alley), was there. He was telling her that her destiny was in Slytherin. He seemed to be hissing at her, and the more she said no, the more the hissing filled her ears. Then Professor Snape, whose gaze had made her scar twinge, appeared. He started laughing. His laugh became cold and high- there was a burst of green light, and Harri woke up sweating and shaking.

Gulliver gave a little yowl, stretched, and padded over to her hand; looking for a scratch.

It was morning, and officially her first day of school.


	7. Invisus: The Potions Master

Harri was pleasantly surprised at how nice her new roommates were. She already knew that she liked Hermione, but Lavender and Parvati were both enjoyable to be around. Lavender was very funny and prone to the girlier pursuits. She had a subscription to 'Witch Weekly,' and was up to date on all the latest haircare charms. Not that any of them knew how to perform said charms, but she kept a collection for future use and experimentation.

Parvati was a pretty Indian girl with long black hair. Her twin sister, Padme, had been sorted into Ravenclaw. At first, Parvati seemed a bit miffed about being separated from her sister, but she found that Lavender was a good substitute and a more willing ear when it came to gossip.

Harri, who had never been around girly girls before, was enamored by their ability to do hair, arrange outfits, paint nails, and find hidden meaning in every spoken word. While she still felt too shy to overly engage, she enjoyed sitting and listening to her roommates. Lavender even showed her how to french braid her hair!

Hermione couldn't stand them.

They talked too much, interrupted her reading, and were far too focused on boys instead of school. They were here to learn magic, weren't they? Why would they be focused on who was wearing which mark covering?

Harri had merely shrugged. She could tell that Hermione had an intensity and fanaticism for learning that surpassed anything she had ever seen before. Hermione's intensity even started to wear on Harri by the end of their first week. She was obsessively combing through notes, practicing spells, and badgering Harri to write two feet more for her Transfiguration essay (Harri assured her that three feet was plenty to cover the topic).

Whenever Hermione got to be too much, Harri was glad for Lavender and Parvati. And Ron and Neville. The boys had formed a good friendship with their two roommates, Dean and Seamus. Harri sat with the quartet of boys for breakfast on their second day. Dean and Seamus were both loud and boisterous. Seamus could talk faster than Lavender, which was saying something.

Whispers followed Harri from the moment she left he dormitory each day. People lined up outside classrooms stood on tiptoe to get a look at her, or doubled back to pass her in the corridors. When she noticed this, she always blushed pink.

There were a hundred and forty-two staircases at Hogwarts: wide, sweeping ones; narrow, rickety ones; some that led somewhere different on Friday; some with a vanishing step halfway up that you had to remember to jump. Then there were doors that wouldn't open unless you asked politely, or tickled them in exactly the right place, and doors that weren't really doors at all, but solid walls just pretending.

The ghosts didn't help either. It was always a nasty shock when one of them glided suddenly through a door you were trying to open. But Nearly-Headless Nick (the Gryffindor Ghost) was always happy to point students in the right direction. On the other hand, Peeves the Poltergeist was worth several locked doors and a trick staircase if you were late for class.

Even worse than Peeves was Argus Filch the caretaker and his cat, Mrs. Norris. Harri tried to pet the cat, but it had yowled and hissed at her menacingly. Filch was always glad to catch students doing something wrong, and he and his cat seemed to show up the moment trouble was occurring. Filch seemed to know the castle better than anyone, except perhaps Ron's brothers, Fred and George. Fred and George really could show up anywhere, and mischief always followed in their wake. A blown up toilet was attributed, but not proven, to be the work of the Weasley Twins on the third day of term.

Getting around really was just half the problem. There were the classes themselves! Despite Harri's accidental magic, purposeful magic was much more difficult than expected. Oh, some classes weren't so bad. Like on Wednesday nights at midnight when they got to look through their telescopes at the stars. Or Herbology with Professor Sprout, where they learned to take care of strange plants and fungi. Herbology reminded her a bit too much of tending to the Dursleys' garden for Harri to truly enjoy it, but Astronomy was magical.

Easily the most boring class was History of Magic, which Harri found to be a real shame. She had greatly enjoyed the textbook, but Professor Binns was an unaware ghost who droned on and on about Goblin Rebellions.

Professor Flitwick, the Charms teacher, was a tiny little wizard who had to stand on a pile of books to see over his desk. He let out a squeak when he read Harri's name on the role. Charms was their first experience in wand waving. It was here that Harri realized that while some students had an issue making anything happen at all, she had an issue with making far too much happen. Professor Flitwick had to put out a fire when Harri put too much force behind her spell, trying to make something finally happen after twenty minutes of nothing happening at all.

Hermione was the first student to have any measure of success. In Transfiguration, Professor McGonagall had them attempting to change a matchstick into a needle. Hermione was able to make it go silver and pointy. Harri hadn't managed anything at all. That night in the common room while practicing, Ron managed the silver part. Harri made her matchstick explode into a shower of needle fragments. It was frustrating, to say the least.

The class everyone had really been looking forward to was Defense Against the Dark Arts, but Quirrell's lesson turned out to be a bit of a joke. His classroom smelled strongly of garlic, which everyone said was to ward off a vampire he had met in Romania and was afraid would be coming back to get him one of these days. His turban, he told them, had been given to him by an African prince as a thank you for getting rid of a troublesome zombie. Harri thought it was odd that he wore it every day since it looked quite unruly. Harri left DADA with a horrible headache, she assumed from the horrible garlic smell.

Harri was relieved to find that she wasn't miles behind everyone else. Lots of people came from Muggle families and, like her, hadn't had any idea that they were witches and wizards. So Harri enjoyed discussing the finer points of football with Dean Thomas, literature with Hermione, and even found common ground about muggle gardening with Hannah Abbott (a half-blood) when they were paired together in Herbology. `

There was so much to learn that even people like Ron and Neville didn't have much of a head start. Most of the time it seemed like it was Hermione that was miles ahead, to Ron's annoyance.

For the first time in her life, Harri felt like she was around friends. It was a revelation to enjoy every interaction she had with people. Nothing could put a damper on her mood.

That was before her first potions class with Professor Snape.

* * *

Friday was an important day for Harri and Hermione. They finally managed to find their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast without getting lost once. Neville and Ron were already there when they arrived, Ron eating his porridge rather quickly.

Hermione sniffed at his poor table manners.

"What have we got today?" Harri asked Ron as she poured sugar over her own bowl of porridge.

"Double Potions with the Slytherins," said Ron. "Snape's Head of Slytherin House. They say he always favors them- we'll be able to see if it's true."

"I'm sure it's not," said Hermione primely. "Professor Snape has a responsibility to be fair to all his students. Like Professor McGonagall."

"Yeah," said Harri, "but I wish that McGonagall did favor us!" She had given them a huge pile of homework the day before. Hermione had already finished it, of course.

Just then the mail arrived. Harri had gotten used to this by now, but it had given her a shock on the first morning. So far she hadn't gotten anything, but this morning a large tawny owl swooped down and dropped a note in front of Harri. She tore it open at once. It said, in an untidy scrawl:

 _Dear Harri_

 _I know you get Friday afternoons off, so would you like to come and have a cup of tea with me around three? I want to hear all about your first week. Send us an answer back with Thumper._

 _Hagrid_

Thumper the Screech owl was large and helping himself to some of Harri's bacon.

"Would you like to come with me to tea at Hagrid's?" Harri asked Ron, Hermione, and Neville. The three readily agreed. So Harri scribbled a reply of ' _Yes, please, see you later. Bringing a few friends_ ', and sent Thumper off again.

It was lucky that Harri had tea to look forward to because the Potions lesson turned out to be the worst thing that had happened to her so far.

At the start-of-term banquet, Harri had gotten the idea that Professor Snape disliked her. Ten Minutes into the first Potions lesson, she knew she'd been wrong. Snape didn't dislike Harri- he hated her.

Potions lessons took place down in one of the dungeons. It was colder here than up in the main castle and would have been quite creepy enough without the pickled animals floating in glass jars all around the walls.

Snape, like Flitwick, started the class with the roll call, and like Flitwick, he paused at Harri's name.

"Ah, yes," he said softly, "Harriet Potter. Our new- celebrity." Harri felt her face turn pink and had a strong desire to hide. Snape reminded her of a predator.

Draco Malfoy, who had gotten his swagger back, sniggered behind his hands. Snape finished calling the names and looked up at the class. His eyes were black like Hagrid's, but they had none of Hagrid's warmth. They were cold and empty and made you think of dark tunnels.

"You are here to learn the subtle science and exact art of potion-making," he began. He spoke in barely more than a whisper, but they caught every word- like Professor McGonagall, Snape had the gift of keeping a class silent without effort. Harri wondered if potion brewing was a bit like baking, which was something she enjoyed.

"As there is little foolish wand-waving here, many of you will hardly believe this is magic. I don't expect you will really understand the beauty of the softly simmering cauldron with its shimmering fumes, the delicate power of liquids that creep through human veins, bewitching the mind, ensnaring the senses…. I can teach you how to bottle fame, brew glory, even stopper death- if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach!"

All this sounded well and good to Harri. So far wand waving had resulted in explosions. A class that involved chopping, stirring and recipes seemed ideal. Bu then…

"Potter!" said Snape suddenly. "What would I get if I added powdered root of asphodel to an infusion of wormwood?"

She knew some of this from her textbook. "Well…" Harri began carefully, feeling very self-conscious. "I know that wormwood can be used to soothe digestive issues. And asphodel has something to do with death…" Hermione's hand was in the air.

"That isn't good enough Potter. You have to know how ingredients interact with each other. Fame clearly isn't everything." She wanted to disappear.

"Let's try again. Potter, where would you look if I told you to find me a bezoar?"

"It's a stone from a stomach I think," Harri replied. She remembered seeing a medical show with Aunt Petunia that featured a woman who had chewed her hair into a bezoar. Clearly, this answer was not complete enough as Hermione stretched her hand as high into the air as it would go.

"Do you think you can get away with half answers, Potter?" Harri forced herself to keep looking straight into those cold eyes. She felt angry. The itch behind her eye was there. This was just like the Dursleys. Professor Snape was a bully. He was singling her out, trying to shame her. Why did he have to do this? Harri hadn't done anything to him.

Snape ignored Hermione's quivering hand.

"What is the difference, Potter, between monkshood and wolfsbane?"

At this, Hermione stood up, her hand stretching toward the dungeon ceiling.

"I don't know," said Harri quietly. "I think Hermione does, though, why don't you try her?"

A few people laughed, but Snape's face only tightened with fury. "Sit down," he snapped at Hermione. "For your information Potter, asphodel and wormwood make a sleeping potion so powerful it is known as the Draught of Living Death. A bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons. As for monkshood and wolfsbane, they are the same plant, which also goes by the name of aconite. Well? Why aren't you all copying that down?"

There was a rummaging of quills and parchment. Over the noise, Snape said, "And a point will be taken from Gryffindor House for your cheek, Potter." She glared at Snape. She hadn't done anything wrong.

Things didn't improve for the Gryffindors as the Potions lesson continued. Snape put them all into pairs and set them to mixing up a simple potion to cure boils. Harri and Ron paired together, while Hermione was with Neville. This appeared to be a good thing, as Hermione was able to stop Neville from adding porcupine quills while the cauldron was still on the fire. Hermione's quick spot was overheard by Snape. He quickly turned on Harri, "You- Potter- why didn't you try and stop him from adding the quills? Thought he'd make you look good if he got it wrong, did you? That's another point from Gryffindor."

This was so unfair that Harri began to cry in frustration, rage, and embarrassment. She had no control over what her magic did next. She knew that she had two ways of reacting to Snape from experience with Vernon Dursley. Anger or to run away. It appeared that on some level she knew that she couldn't hang Professor Snape upside down like she had Uncle Vernon. Flight won out, and Harri completely disappeared for the first time in her life.

Everyone in the room gasped. But Snape didn't.

His eyes narrowed. "Out," he hissed. With a wave of his wand everyone's potions disappeared from their cauldrons.

"You will stay, Miss. Potter," he said to the invisible Harri who was at this point gripping herself and shaking on the floor trying to gain control of the magic swirling around her.

The students quickly packed up their belongings and filed out of the class. Ron, Hermione, and Neville paused by the door. A sharp look from Snape had them out after a moment though. Snape flicked his wand behind them, and the door shut with a soft click.

Snape stood over Harri, who had begun to be visible again. She was still very translucent, and her head was between her knees. She felt like she had the chills all over her body and like she might throw up.

"Miss. Potter," Snape said with a resigned kind of softness. "Are you aware of what your magic is doing right now?"

Harri shook her head, not looking up.

"When a young witch or wizard spends a great deal of time under duress their magic finds ways to shield them. Becoming invisible, lashing out, moving objects."

Harri peaked up, looked up at Snape's face. It seemed pinched and uncomfortable. "You completely disappeared Miss. Potter. It takes a great deal of magic to do that. It also takes years of duress"

Harri sighed, and the magic dissipated. "I don't know what you're talking about," she said with practiced certainty. Who was this man, who had just verbally berated her like Vernon Dursley, to comment on the… duress she had experienced as a child.

Snape glared down at her. "There is no need to lie, Miss. Potter."

This wasn't happening. She wasn't going to talk about this. In what universe should she have to ever recount her time with the Dursleys? It was over. She wasn't going back. She would run away if she had to. She had money, it wouldn't be a problem.

"I can deal with this myself," she said. Her voice sounded shaky. Then nausea, which had begun when she had pulled her shield around herself, bubbled over. She retched. Her porridge reappeared looking unchanged from breakfast.

Snape didn't seem phased. Didn't make a face of disgust. Didn't do anything that she expected actually. Instead, he kneeled down beside her, banishing her sick with a wave of his wand and placed a hand on her shoulder.

"I know what you're going through Miss. Potter. I myself struggled with this issue as a child," he said. His eyes, which had previously looked very emotionless, were suddenly full of sorrow.

"Did you make everything explode too?" Harri asked, sniffing.

"Yes," he replied.

"I've always been a freak," she whispered. "Even in the Wizarding World now."

"Miss. Potter, let me assure you that what you are going through, while not usual, is not something 'freakish'," Snape said. His tone seemed angrier. "If you would follow me, you should go to the Hospital Wing. Madame Pomfrey would do well to look you over."

He helped her stand and led her out into the corridor. Hermione, Ron, and Neville were still there waiting for her. Harri's heart felt much lighter seeing her friends. They had cared enough to wait!

"Miss. Potter will be going to the Hospital Wing," Snape told them sharply.

"Would you mind going down to Hagrid's? To let him know I won't make tea?" Harri asked shakily. Her friends assured her that they would, and off Harri went with Snape.

* * *

Severus Snape had been determined to hate Harriet was the living embodiment of his own failures mixed with the very reason for Lily's death. There could be nothing redeemable about the girl.

When she had first entered the hall all he had seen was Lily's hair. For a moment, Snape had been sure that she would look just like Lily. He hadn't decided if that would be a living hell for him or not, but on further inspection, he saw that it was worse than just looking like Lily. She was a true mix of her parents. Lily's hair, eye shape, and cheekbones. James Potter's mouth, nose, and expressions. His eye color too, Snape had seen that during the first potions class. How could he forget James Potter's smirking mouth and horrid eyes looking at him for seven years of torture?

She was like her father, he quickly thought. She had amassed a group of friends and would prance about the great hall with them. From the other professors, he heard that she would explode her projects with practiced ease. Just like Potter then, no view of safety. No care for the people that would get hurt in her wake.

Yes, he had perhaps reacted poorly in class. He had been surprised that she had managed as well as she had with her half-answers to two of his questions. She had opened a book. Her potion technique wasn't bad either, he had observed. With her head down she could almost pass as Lily.

Lily…

Severus Snape was one of the unlucky few people with an unanswered soulmark. "What's Obvious?" had been the lovely purple words encircling his wrist, but 'It's obvious, isn't it?" hadn't been the ones to circle hers.

Seeing Harriet Potter, the result of all his fractured hopes and failures, look just like her mother had been too much for him. His temper had gotten away from him. One unfounded accusation later, and Harriet Potter had disappeared in a manner that only an abused child could.

Severus would know. He had done much the same thing before he had met Lily.

Abuse had two common outcomes for a magical child. The first was to become an Obscurial. Someone who repressed their magic so much that it eventually overcame them. The second was not so widely named. The child would use their magic as a defense, often accidentally, but would never attempt to repress their magical responses. Often the desire to be unseen allowed such children to become transparent, or even invisible if given the right motivation.

It appeared that Snape had given Harriet Potter just the right motivation. He ran a hand over his face in frustration as he made his way to the Headmaster's Office after leaving her with Madame Pomfrey. He had told a house elf to collect Minerva.

He wondered what physical reminders of abuse would appear to Pomfrey. Clearly, she was underweight. Malnutrition and stunted growth. Would there be nearly healed bruises? Broken bones? Severus had been the recipient of many a black eye and dislocated shoulder from his father.

Once he arrived at Dumbledore's Office and climbed the stairs, he found Minerva and Albus speaking quietly. He cleared his throat.

Minerva turned, looking concerned. "You say this is about Potter?" she asked sternly.

"Surely one lesson isn't enough to condemn the girl in your eyes, Severus," Albus said, eyes twinkling.

He felt shame and frustration fill him. They thought the worst of him. That after a day with Harriet Potter he was up here demanding to never see the girl again. If she hadn't disappeared he wondered if that wasn't exactly what he would have done.

"No," he said softly. "I asked to meet because Miss. Potter exhibited signs of abuse in my class. She disappeared when I… let my temper get the best of me."

Minerva gasped, but Albus didn't look surprised. "I knew it, Albus. I knew it. I told you those were the worst types of Muggles. I should have known! The ward for accidental magic has been going haywire in the common room."

"Worst kind of muggles?" Snape asked. "Surely Mr. and Mrs. Evans weren't so bad. I knew them as a boy."

Albus shook his head. "Lily's parents passed away in 1980."

A feeling of dread hit Severus. "Surely," he began, "You did not put a wizarding child in the care of Petunia Evans." Harriet had called herself a freak. Severus could remember Petunia saying much the same thing to Lily.

"Dursley now, actually," Dumbledore corrected.

"Albus! No wonder she's like this. Petunia was the worst kind of magic-hating muggle I ever saw. Always jealous of her sister."

"And her husband!" Minerva exclaimed. "He yelled and yelled at the people he works with. He must do the same to Harriet!"

"I took her to the Hospital Wing to determine the extent of the abuse," Snape informed Minerva. "I think she will respond better to your presence than mine."

Minerva nodded and then headed for the door. "She won't be returning to those muggles Albus, I won't allow it," she said in parting as she closed the door behind her.

"I'm afraid that Harriet must return to the Dursleys," Albus told him softly.

"I won't allow it either, Albus."

"There are protections there that cannot be put in place anywhere else."

"I don't rightfully care. If you want me to leave Lily Evans daughter in a place where _that_ kind of magic develops you are dead wrong." Severus felt the ice in his tone, the venom in his voice.

"Be reasonable Severus, she needs to be safe." Albus did look upset. Horribly upset.

"She would be safe at Hogwarts over the summer," Severus tried.

"You know as well as I that professors leave the castle to pursue their own interests over the summer. It's no place for a twelve-year-old girl."

"And you know as well as I do that she can't go back, Albus. It isn't acceptable to leave a child in a situation like that. It's against the law. Against all of our training as teachers. The physical well being of children matters."

"And what do you suggest then, Severus," Dumbledore asked this with a very tired voice. "Who do you purpose takes in Harriet Potter? She can't be on her own. She has no other relatives. The blood wards keep her safe from Voldemort's followers. Do you realize how many attempted attacks have failed in the last year alone? At least half a dozen. Where else would he be safe?"

He felt an answer on the tip of his tongue but knew it wasn't practical. Knew that he wasn't capable of the kindness he was close to proposing.

"I'll come up with something. Minerva and I will."

"I will be happy to hear any solutions that you propose," Albus responded. "But if none of them provide the appropriate amount of protection, Harriet will be forced to return to her relatives. We can always implement more home visits. Please give me a report of your incident today with Miss. Potter. And ask Poppy to send hers along as well. I'll start a file." Albus rubbed his temple with long fingers. He had begun to look old over these last few years.

"Of course, Albus," said Severus as he left the office with a soft click.

Harriet Potter was much worse than he had expected. It appeared that she had gotten her mother's hair, her father's expressions, and Severus' childhood.


	8. Invisus: The Midnight Duel

Harri struggled to control her breathing once Professor Snape left her alone in the Hospital Wing. She had only been to a doctor once before, and it hadn't been a pleasant experience. She had been five years old, and Dudley had punched her in the nose at school. With blood pouring down her face, she had gone to the nurse, who had phoned Aunt Petunia and told her that she was taking Harri to a physician.

Harri had been glad to have her nose properly set, but when Aunt Petunia had arrived it all went downhill. She had thanked the school nurse and doctor for taking such good care of Harri, and then trundled her off into the car. She then proceeded to shrilly yell at Harri for the entire ride back to Privet Drive. The list was long; for getting Dudley suspended, for not having the common sense to keep this to herself, for costing the Dursleys money. Harri would have been fine with being confined to her cupboard for a few days, but that wasn't what happened. Instead, when Uncle Vernon had come home, he had slammed her hand roughly against the wall with a twist, breaking her wrist and two fingers. Harri had been in agony, but at the first sign of tears had been kicked in the stomach. Freaks didn't deserve to cry. She had been told firmly that if she ever told anyone what happened she would be turned out.

Sometimes Harri had wondered what it would have been like to live on the streets. She didn't think that she could make it, but maybe some nice family would take her in. She saw little girls at school with happy parents. A father that picked up his daughter for a hug at the end of a school day. The mother that sent notes in her son's packed lunch. Aunt Petunia would often tell Harri that she didn't deserve to be loved because she was a freak. Like her parents had been freaks.

Harri remembered all of this as Madame Pomphry examined her. She worked hard to control her breathing because rationally Harri knew that nothing bad was going to happen. She was never going near the Dursleys again. It wouldn't matter if the teachers knew what had happened.

Old habits were hard to suppress, even when trying to think rationally. Harri was fading in and out of visibility while Madame Pomphry cast diagnostic spells. She kept the kindly smile on her face, which seemed more and more forced as time went on.

Professor McGonagall arrived just as Madame Pomphry was finishing up, and the two began to speak in hushed voices. They kept glancing over at Harri.

She hated it.

Finally, the two women came over to Harri and sat down in chairs next to the hospital bed Harri was perched on.

"Miss. Potter," Professor McGonagall began, "I have heard an account from Professor Snape about what occurred in his class today. Do you understand why we find the magic you are performing alarming?"

"Yes Professor," Harri said. "He said that it was indicative of… of my childhood."

"Yes Harriet," Madame Pomphry said, "and from what I've learned from these scans it wasn't a very pleasant childhood."

"No, ma'am," Harri replied, looking down.

"Miss. Potter, we know this is a lot. You do not have to say more than you feel comfortable with. But we would like to understand what exactly happened."

Harri shook her head, still looking down. She took several deep breaths. "I can't go back to them. If I tell you, and I go back, I don't know what will happen."

Professor McGonagall reached out gently and touched Harri's hand with her own. Harri flinched, but Professor McGonagall ran a finger over Harri's knuckles and said a quiet spell. Harri felt much calmer suddenly. Less like she was about to ping-pong around the room.

"Miss. Potter, let me assure you that you will not be returning to whatever situation caused this. It is not legally or morally permissible." Professor McGonagall said in a very firm tone. Harri finally looked up and met her spectacled eyes. She didn't look like she was lying.

"It was my Aunt and Uncle," Harri explained finally. "It's always been them. They don't… treat me well. Sometimes they hit me. A couple times I'm pretty sure they've broken my bones. They don't feed me a lot, and they always yell. If they can see me, they're upset with me. And until I got my Hogwarts letter, I slept in the cupboard under the stairs."

Harri had known that these things were not normal. Maybe if she had been the only child in the house, she would have believed that it was normal to be treated that way. She had Dudley to look to though. Saw how his parents loved and adored him even though he was horrible. Had eventually figured out from reading and watching that it was abuse. She never tried to think the word, it felt pathetic to be an abused child. But there it was, abuse. She was making it clear at last to adults who claimed that they could help. She didn't know if she could really believe them, but Harri figured it was worth a go at this point. The Dursley's weren't here to beat her bloody. She had magic, and she would stop them if they tried.

"It was more than a couple times Harriet," Madame Pomphry told her. "My scans show that you've broken nearly 20 bones if your life."

Harri shrugged, looking down again. "I think my magic healed me. I never went to a doctor and it always stopped hurting after a week or two."

"That is what usually happens for magical children, yes," Madame Pomphry agreed.

"We may need to get memories from you Harri," Professor McGonagall told her. "It's a very simple process, but it won't be pleasant for you to think about. Not today, but eventually, Professor Snape will join the three of us and will help you extract your memories. They are proof in a court of law of what happened. Your memories will protect you from ever being near your Aunt or Uncle again."

Harri didn't much like the idea of having to think about anything they had done to her. She liked to forget about it most of the time. She nodded.

"I will also need you to come to see me every Friday morning," Madame Pomphry told her. "You have a lot of catching up to do with growing. We'll fix you right up, and before you know it you'll be a few inches taller and a little more filled out. A nutritional potion and a child's growth potion should do the trick for three months."

Harri brightened at this. She hadn't liked always being so very small and skinny. Magic could do wonders.

"Thank you, Madame Pomphry," she said with a small smile. "I'd like that."

* * *

Harri was told to wait in the Hospital Wing for a few hours until her magic evened out. "Try to sleep," Madame Pomphry told her gently. She did feel tired, but before she could fully doze off she had visitors. Ron, Hermione, Neville, and Hagrid all appeared to check in on her.

"Blimey mate," Ron began, "who knew that going invisible would be such a big deal. I thought it was a wicked trick."

Harri laughed it off as best she could, "Well you know, apparently it's not great for the magical core to be doing things like that."

Hermione looked curious and began to ask Harri questions about magical cores. "Did they say why? What does a magical core do exactly? Is it a real anatomical thing, or more of a potential energy site?"

"Hermione, you know I don't know," Harri responded with a laugh. "I'm sure you'll figure it out though. Madame Pince can probably point you in the right direction."

"You're right of course!" Hermione said with excitement. Another area of magic for her to be an expert in. "They really should explain these things to Muggle-born students. How are we ever going to learn about them otherwise!"

Neville shrugged, "I don't really know either, Hermione." Hermione shot him a look.

"Well you should," she said with gusto. "How are we to understand magic if we don't understand the physiology of it all!"

"Would you like to get a head start on research Hermione. I don't mind. I'm allowed to leave in about an hour anyway." Hermione looked guilty for a moment but then nodded.

"As long as you don't mind Harri. Perhaps it will help us understand it though. It is a fascinating ability, and maybe understanding magical cores could help us all with getting magic to occur the correct way." She was off, muttering to herself as she went.

"I'll never have to read a book again as long as Hermione's around," she said with a laugh to the boys. They both chortled.

"It's always a muggle-born," Hagrid informed them. "They feel behind, s' they research everyth'n to death. Your mum was like that Harri."

They eased into more cheerful topics, Ron, Neville, and Hagrid happy enough to not discuss why Harri was in the hospital wing. They were delighted to hear Hagrid call Filch "that old git."

"An' as fer that cat, Mrs. Norris, I'd like ter introduce her to me dog Fang sometime. D'yeh know, every time I come up here, she follows me everywhere? Can't get rid of her- Filch puts her up to it!"

Harri did attempt to explain why she had disappeared during potions. "Snape just really seems to hate me."

"Rubbish!" said Hagrid. "Why should he?" Hagrid told her not to worry about it, that Snape liked hardly any of the students.

"How's yer brother Charlie?" Hagrid asked Ron. "I liked him a lot- great with animals."

Harry wondered if Hagrid had changed the subject on purpose. While Ron told Hagrid all about CHarlie's work with dragons, Neville showed Harri a copy of the Daily Prophet that was lying on a bedside table. It was apparently the main newspaper of the Wizarding World. Neville was good about that, discreetly trying got catch Hermione and Harri up on things that other students just knew.

"It wouldn't surprise me if Hermione wanted to subscribe," Neville said. As he folded it back closed, Harri saw an article with Goblins moving in the picture.

 _Gringotts Break-In Latest_

 _Investigations continue into the break-in at Gringotts on 31 July, widely believed to be the work of Dark wizards or witches unknown._

 _Gringotts goblins today insisted that nothing had been taken. The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied the same day._

 _"But we're not telling you what was in there, so keep your noses out if you know what's good for you," said a Gringotts spokesgoblin this afternoon._

Harri remembered Ron telling her about it on the train, that someone had tried to rob Gringotts. Ron and Neville hadn't mentioned the date.

"Hagrid!" said Harri, "that Gringotts break-in happened on my birthday! It might've been happening while we were there!"

There was no doubt about it, Hagrid definitely didn't meet Harri's eyes this time. He grunted and made his excuses that he had lots to get done today still. "Hope yeh feel better, Harri," he said as he left.

The vault that was searched had in fact been emptied earlier that same day. Hagrid had emptied vault seven hundred and thirteen if you could call it emptying, taking out that grubby little package. Had that been what the thieves were looking for?

As Harri, Ron, and Neville finally walked down to dinner, Harri thought that none of the lessons she'd had so far had given her as much to think about as her time in the Hospital Wing. An escape for the Dursleys was on the table. And Hagrid… had Hagrid collected that package just in time? Where was it now? And did Hagrid know something about Snap that he didn't want to tell Harri?

* * *

Harri had never believed that she would meet a boy she hated more than Dudley, but that was before she had met Draco Malfoy. He was an absolute jerk to Hermione whenever they were around each other. Calling her names, making fun of her appearance, and commenting that she would never catch up with the real witches and wizards.

They had had to restrain Ron several times from throwing a punch. He probably could have taken Malfoy, but not Crabbe and Goyle who followed Malfoy everywhere.

Still, first-year Gryffindors only had Potions with the Slytherins, so they didn't have to put up with Malfoy much. Or at least, they didn't until they spotted a notice pinned up in the Gryffindor common room that made them all groan. Flying lessons would be starting on Thursday- and Gryffindor and Slytherin would be learning together.

"Typical," said Hermione darkly. "Just what I want, to make a fool of myself on a broomstick in front of Malfoy."

"You don't know that you'll make a fool of yourself," said Ron reasonably. "Anyway, I know Malfoy's always going on about how good he is at Quidditch, but I bet that's all talk."

Harri was also a bit concerned about making a fool of herself, but had less reason to worry than Hermione. Anything Hermione failed out was another point that Malfoy could rub in. Harri was so bothered about it she brought it up to Professor Snape when they met for the second time to extract her memories of the Dursleys.

"I know that this isn't relevant, and you might not care," Harri said very quickly, "but Draco Malfoy is being just horrible to Hermione Granger. He bullies her all the time. Just because he doesn't like that she's his soulmate." Snape just about dropped his wand.

"You don't talk about that Potter," he snapped sharply. Harri felt her heart jump at his anger, and her magic started to swirl. Snape must have noticed her face, because he took several deep breaths before collecting himself.

"I know this is new to you," he said slowly. "And I can speak to Mr. Malfoy about comporting himself more appropriately. But anything to do with that is between and his family, and Miss. Granger and hers."

Malfoy certainly did talk about his family all the time. He talked about his broom. He talked about his large home. He talked about the time he got ways from a muggle helicopter. It was all a bit much to stomach. He did talk rather less about Hermione after Snape and Harri's meeting though.

Neville had never been on a broomstick in his life because his grandmother had never let him near one. Privately, Harri felt she'd had a good reason because Neville managed to have an extraordinary number of accidents even with both feet on the ground. It was only through all four students working determinedly together, that no one fell behind in the practical magic skills. Ron and Neville both had family wands that could give mixed results, and Harri often overpowered her spells. Hermione was often quick to get spells, but anything involving 'magical expression' seemed lost on her.

Hermione began to try to learn flying out of a book, seeing as so far she had learned most everything else that way. At breakfast, on Thursday she bored them all stupid with flying tips she'd gotten out of a library book called Quidditch Through the Ages.

"I've actually read that one," Ron whispered to Harri. "Don't know how she's making it sound so horrible."

Neville was hanging on to her every word, desperate for anything that might help him hang on to his broomstick later, but everybody else was very pleased when Hermione's lecture was interrupted by the arrival of the mail.

Harri hadn't had a single letter since Hagrid's note, something that Malfoy had been quick to notice, of course. Malfoy's eagle owl was always bringing him packages of sweets from home, which he opened gloatingly at the Slytherin table.

A barn owl brought Neville a small package from his grandmother. He opened it excitedly and showed them a glass ball the size of a large marble, which seemed to be full of white smoke.

"It's a Remembrall!" explained. "Gran knows I forget things- this tells you if there's something you've forgotten to do. Look, you hold it tight like this and if it turns red- oh…" his face fell because the Remembrall had suddenly glowed scarlet, "you've forgotten something…"

Hermione and Harri began to quiz Neville on the thing he could have forgotten and did figure out it was the password. It had changed that day, and Neville had forgotten to look at the notice board to get the new one, 'Pigsnout'.

Draco Malfoy, who was passing the Gryffindor table, snatched the now white Remembrall out of Neville's hand.

Harri and Ron jumped to their feet. They were half hoping for a reason to fight Malfoy, though Hermione began to clutch her wand with white-knuckled anger. Before anything could happen, Profesor McGonagall, who could spot trouble quicker than any teacher in the school, was there.

"What's going on?"

"Malfoy's got my Remembrall, Professor."

Scowling, Malfoy quickly dropped the Remembrall back on the table. "Just looking," he said, and he sloped away with Crabbe and Goyle behind him.

* * *

At three-thirty that afternoon, Harri and the other Gryffindors hurried down the front steps onto the grounds for their first flying lesson. It was a clear, breezy day, and the grass rippled under their feet as they marched down the sloping lawns toward a smooth flat lawn on the opposite sideof the grounds to the forbidden forest, whose trees were swaying darkly in the distance.

The Slytherins were already there, and so were twenty broomsticks lying in neat lines on the ground. Harri had heard Fred and George Weasley complain about the school brooms, saying that some of them started to vibrate if you flew too high, or always flew slightly to the left.

She would frankly be quite surprised if she noticed such a thing, considering that her newness to flight would be its own focal point.

Their teacher, Madame Hooch, arrived. She had short gray hair, and yellow eyes like a hawk. In a way, she reminded Harri of a gym teacher, and she wondered if this was the wizard equivalent of physical education

"Well, what are you all waiting for?" she barked. "Everyone stand by a broomstick. Come on, hurry up."

Harri glanced down at her broom. It was old and some of the twigs stuck up at wrong angles.

"Stick out your right hand over your broom," called Madam Hooch at the front, "and say 'UP!"

"UP" everyone shouted.

Harri's broom jumped into her hand at once, but it was one of the few that did. Hermione's broom simply rolled over. She blushed a little, and Harri gave her an encouraging smile. Harri kept watch and noticed that Hermione did manage it one attempt behind Malfoy. Neville, on the other hand, was not able to get his broom into his hand by command and leaned down to pick it up when Madame Hooch wasn't looking. His voice had said only too clearly that he wanted to keep his feet firmly on the ground.

Madam Hooch then showed them how to mount their brooms without sliding off the end, and walked up and down the rows correcting their grips. Hermione was delighted when Hooch told Malfoy he'd been doing it wrong for years.

"Now, when I blow my whistle, you kick off from the ground, hard," said Madam Hooch. "Keep your brooms stead, rise a few feet, and then come straight back down by leaning forward slightly. On my whistle- three - two-"

But Neville, nervous and jumpy and frightened of being left on the ground, pushed off hard before the whistle had touched Madam Hooch's lips.

"Come back, boy!" she shouted, but Neville was rising straight up like a cork shot out of a bottle- twelve feet- twenty feet. Harri saw his scared white face look down at the ground falling away, saw him gasp, slip sideways off the broom and-

WHAM- a thud and a nasty crack and Neville lay facedown on the grass in a heap. Harri and Hermione both gave off little screams. Neville's broomstick was still rising higher and higher and started to drift lazily toward the forbidden forest and out of sight.

Madam Hooch was bending over Neville, her face as white as his.

"Broken wrist," Harri heard her mutter. "Come on boy- it's all right, up you get."

She turned to the rest of the class. "None of you is to move while I take this boy to the hospital wing! You leave those brooms where they are or you'll be out of Hogwarts before you can say 'Quidditch.' Come on dear,"

Hermione, who looked rather like she didn't want to fly piped up, "Would you mind if I came too, Madame Hooch? I don't want Neville to be alone!"

Madame Hooch gave a distracted nod, and the trio headed back up the steps of the school.

No sooner were they out of earshot than Malfoy burst into laughter. "Did you see his face, the great lump? And mudblood Granger running off with him"

The other Slytherins join in. Ron a few Gryffindors gasped.

"Shut up, Malfoy," snapped Parvati.

"Oooh, sticking up for Longbottom and Granger?" said Pansy Parkinson, a hard-faced Slytherin girl. "Never thought you'd like fat little crybabies Parvati. Or pissy little know-it-alls"

"Look!" said Malfoy, darting forward and snatching something out of the grass. "It's that stupid thing Longbottom's gran sent him."

The Remembrall glittered in the sun as he held it up.

"Give that here, Malfoy," said Harri. She didn't know what a mudblood was, but she could tell by Ron's face it wasn't a nice name at all.

Malfoy smiled nastily. "I think I'll leave it somewhere for Longbottom to find- how about- up a tree?"

"Give it here !" Harri yelled. Her magic sparked around her and her hair started to frizz.

But Malfoy had lept onto his broomstick and taken off. He hadn't been lying, he could fly well. Hovering level with the topmost branches of an oak he called, "Come and get it, Potter!"

Harri grabbed her broom. Blood was pounding in her ears and magic was buzzing at her fingertips. How dare this rubbish ass insult her friends. She mounted the broom and kicked hard against the ground and up, up she soared; air rushed through her hair, and her robes whipped out behind her- and in a rush of fierce joy she realized she'd found something she could do without being taught- this was easy, this was wonderful. She pulled the broomstick up a little to take it ever higher and heard screams and gasps from Parvati and Lavender back on the ground and an admiring whoop from Ron.

She turned the broomstick sharply to face Malfoy in midair. Malfoy looked stunned. "Give it here," she called, "or I'll knock you off that broom!"

"Oh, yeah?" said Malfoy, trying to sneer, but looking worried. Her magic was affecting the wind at this point. Harri was somehow holding steady effortlessly while Malfoy was starting to be battered around. He was clearly concentrating on holding the broom steady.

Harri somehow knew what to do. She leaned forward and shot toward Malfoy like a javelin. Malfoy only just got out of the way in time; she made a sharp about-face and held the broom steady. It was effortless.

"No Crabbe and Goyle up here to save your back, Malfoy," Harri called.

The same thought seemed to have struck Malfoy. "Catch it if you can then!" he shouted, and he threw the glass ball high into the air and streaked back toward the ground.

Harri saw, as though in slow motion, the ball rise up in the air and then start to fall. She leaned forward and pointed her broom handle down- next second she was gathering speed in a steep dive, racing the ball- wind whistled in her ears, mingled with the screams of people watching-she stretched out her hand- a foot from the ground she caught it, just in time to pull her broom straight, and she toppled gently onto the grass with the Remembrall clutched safely in her fist.

"HARRIET POTTER!"

Her heart sank faster than she'd just dived, Professor McGonagall was running toward them. She got to her feet, trembling. Her errant magic had begun to gather around her, and she tried to control the wonky flow of it.

"Never - in all my time at Hogwarts-"

Professor McGonagall was almost speechless with shock, and her glasses flashed furiously, "- how dare you- might have broken your neck-"

"It wasn't her fault, Professor-"

"Be quiet, Miss. Patil-"

"But Malfoy-"

"That's enough, Mr. Weasley. Potter follow me, now."

Harri caught sight of Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle's triumphant faces as she left, walking numbly in Professor McGonagall's wake as she strode toward the castle. She was going to be expelled, she just knew it.

"You won't send me back to the Dursleys even if you expel me, right?" Harri asked in a nervous tremor.

Professor McGonagall looked so shocked she almost stopped completely in her tracks. "Miss Potter, of course not. I've told you, there is no way that you will return to those people. No, Miss. Potter. I have something else entirely in mind," and she kept walking.

Harri could only follow.

* * *

"You're joking. "

It was dinnertime. Harri had just finished telling Ron, Hermione, and Neville what had happened when she'd left the grounds with Professor McGonagall. Ron had a piece of steak and kidney pie halfway to his mouth, but he'd forgotten all about it.

"Seeker? " Ron asked. "But first years never - you must be the youngest house player in about-"

"- a century," said Harri, picking at her pie. She felt nervous as could be. Flying was great, but playing a game in front of the whole school sounded rather horrid. "Wood told me."

Ron and Nevile were so amazed, so impressed, that they just gaped at Harri. She changed the subject. "Here's your Remembrall, Neville. How is your wrist?"

"Oh it's fine Harri, Madame Pomphry fixed it up in a second. Hermione hung out with me till she let me go, thanks for going with me Hermione!"

Hermione had been unusually quiet through this conversation. She clearly didn't approve of rule breaking, but it seemed her dislike for Draco Malfoy was in direct conflict with this value. "That… prat," she hissed to herself.

Fred and George Weasley now came into the hall, spotted Harri and hurried over. "Well done," said George in a low voice. "Wood told us. We're on the team too- Beaters."

"I tell you, we're going to win that Quidditch cup for sure this year," said Fred. "We haven't won since Charlie left, but this year's team is going to be brilliant. You must be good, Harri, Wood was almost skipping when he told us."

Harri felt her stomach sink further, it must be in the carpet by now. Hermione looked at the twins oddly. "Didn't Charlie only graduate two years ago? That isn't very long."

"It is in Quidditch!" Ron exclaimed.

"Anyway, we've got to go, Lee Jordan reckons he's found a new secret passageway out of the school."

Fred and George had hardly disappeared when someone far less welcome turned up: Malfoy, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle.

"Having a last meal, Potter? When are you getting the train back to the Muggles?"

"You're a lot braver now that you're back on the ground and you've got your little friends with you," Harri said cooly. There was of course nothing at all little about Crabbe and Goyle, but as the High Table was full of teachers, neither of them could do more than crack their knuckles or scowl.

"I'd take you on anytime on my own," said Malfoy. "Tonight if you want. Wizard's duel. Wands only- not contact. What's the matter? Never heard of a wizard's duel before, I suppose?"

Ron opened his mouth, but before he could speak Hermione jutted in with a glare, "You don't want to duel Harri, Malfoy. You've seen her in class. She'd blast you out of the castle. How about me though. I hear you've called me a rather rude name. Harri can be my second. Who is yours?"

Malfoy's smirk faltered. Then he looked over at Crabbe and Goyle, sizing them up. "Crabe," he said. "Midnight all right? We'll meet you in the trophy room; that's always unlocked."

When Malfoy had gone, Ron and Neville stared at Hermione in opened mouthed shock. "You're going to duel Malfoy?" Neville asked in whispered shock.

"The stupid prat deserves it. Calling me names. ME! Well, I'll show him. Show him that Muggle-borns are just as good as any pureblood wizard. That he should only be so lucky!" She devolved into muttering in anger.

Clearly, Hermione's sanity had left the building.

* * *

Harri was very aware that there was a very good chance that they were going to get caught by Filtch, but the manic gleam had not disappeared from Hermione's eyes even as they headed down to the common room at midnight.

"I can't believe you're going to do this, Hermione," Neville said when they arrived. He and Ron were waiting for them by the portrait hole. "You do know we could lose so many house points right?" Neville looked nervous.

"Don't come then," Hermione said flippantly. "Or do. You can watch me win against Malfoy and shut his stupid gob."

"Maybe we should stay here Ron, two students out of bed is better than four," Neville said.

"Are you kidding mate, I'm not missing Hermione beating Malfoy into a pulp." Ron had really reformed his opinion on Hermione. Before today he was generally annoyed by her. Now it seemed he completely approved of her. "Anyway, the fat lady is gone."

Neville turned and saw that the Fat Lady had gone on a nighttime visit, and he was locked out of Gryffindor tower. He shrugged. "All right, we all go."

They flitted along corridors striped with bars of moonlight from the high windows. At every turn, Harri expected to run into Filch or Mrs. Norris, but they were lucky. They sped up a staircase to the third floor and tiptoes toward the trophy room.

Malfoy and Crabbe weren't there yet. The crystal trophy cases glimmered where the moonlight caught them. Cups, shields, plates, and statues winked silver and gold in the darkness. They edged along the walls, keeping their eyes on the doors at either end of the room. Harri took out her wand in case Malfoy leapt in and started at once before Hermione was ready. The minutes crept by.

"He's late, maybe he's chickened out," Ron whispered.

Then a noise in the next room made them jump. Harri had only just raised her wand when they heard someone speak- and it wasn't Malfoy.

"Sniff around, my sweet, they might be lurking in a corner." It was Filch speaking to Mrs. Norris. Horror-struck, Harri waved maniacally at the other three to follow her as quickly as possible; they scurried silently toward the door, away from Filch's voice. Neville's robes had barely whipped around the corner when they head Filch enter the trophy room.

"They're in here somewhere," they heard him mutter, "probably hiding."

"This way!" Harri mouthed to the others and, petrified, they began to creep down a long gallery full of suits of armor. They could hear Filch getting nearer. Neville, who had always been very clumsy, tripped over nothing, grabbed Ron for balance, but ended up knocking the pair of them right into a suit of armor.

The clanging and crashing were enough to wake the whole castle.

"RUN!" Harry yelled, and the four of them sprinted down the gallery, not looking back to see if Filch was following. Harri was in the lead without any idea of where they were going- they ripped through a tapestry and found themselves in a hidden passageway, hurtled along it and came out near their Charms classroom, which they knew was miles from the trophy room.

"I think we've lost him," Harri panted, leaning against the cold wall and wiping her forehead. Neville was bent double, wheezing and spluttering.

"I- can't- believe," Hermione gasped, clutching at the stitch in her chest, "Malfoy- tricked- me."

Harri realized she was probably right. "We've got to get back to Gryffindor tower," said Ron, "quickly as possible."

"He tricked me," Hermione kept on, looking angrier than she had all day. "He was never going to meet us- Filch knew someone was going to be in the trophy room, Malfoy must have tipped him off."

"Let's go," Harri said, reaching out to take Hermione's hand. It was the first time in a long time that Harri had initiated contact with someone. It felt good to give Hermione comfort.

It wasn't going to be as simple as getting back to Gryffindor tower though. They hadn't gone more than a dozen paces when a doorknob rattled and something came shooting out of a classroom in front of them.

It was Peeves. He caught sight of them and gave a squeal of delight.

"Shut up, Peeves- please- you'll get us thrown out."

Peeves cackled. "Wandering around at midnight, Ickle Firsties? Tut Tut. Naughty, naughty, you'll get caughty."

"Not if you don't give us away, Peeves, please."

"Should tell Filch, I should," said Peeves in a saintly voice, but his eyes glittered wickedly. "It's for your own good, you know."

"Get out of the way," snapped Ron, taking a swipe at Peeves- this was a big mistake.

"STUDENTS OUT OF BED!" Peeves bellowed, "STUDENTS OUT OF BED DOWN THE CHARMS CORRIDOR!"

Ducking under Peeves, they ran for their lives, right to the end of the corridor where they slammed into a door- and ti was locked

"This is it!" Ron moaned, as they pushed helplessly at the door, "We're done for! This is the end!"

They could hear footsteps, Filch running as fast as he could toward Peeve's shouts.

"Oh move over," Hermione snarled. She brandied her wand, tapped the lock, and whispered, " Alohomora! " The lock clicked and the door swung open- they piled through it, shut it quickly, and pressed their ears against it, listening.

"Which way did they go, Peeves?"

But Harri didn't keep listening. She felt something… odd in the air. Like a brush of the wind or her neck. She turned and saw there a three-headed dog breathing quite close to them. It looked very surprised to see them and hadn't immediately reacted to their presence.

Now, this might have been a time for panic. It really might have. But they only area of study that Harri knew better than Hermione was the naturalist section. So she knew, without a doubt, that this was a Cerebrus. And that the only way to get a Cerberus to not attack you is to play music. She had particularly noticed this and thought it was quite fun to compose a little ditty on her guitar about the animal. But Harri didn't have a guitar.

 _God rest ye merry gentlemen_  
 _Let nothing you dismay_  
 _Remember Christ our Savior_  
 _Was born on Christmas Day_  
 _To save us all from Satan's_ pow'r  
 _When we were gone astray_  
 _Oh tidings of comfort and joy_  
 _Comfort and joy_  
 _Oh tidings of comfort and joy_

It was the only song she could think of. A song that always made its appearance at Christmas service. She had played it countless times on the piano from the hymnal she had knicked. She sang as quietly as she dared, praying that Filch couldn't hear her through the door. The others had turned when she started singing, and Ron rather looked like he was about to scream. Neville quickly had covered his mouth.

Hermione joined in on the second verse, noticing that the dog was starting to slump down to sleep.

 _God rest ye merry gentlemen_  
 _Let nothing you dismay_  
 _Remember Christ our Savior_  
 _Was born on Christmas Day_  
 _To save us all from Satan's_ pow'r  
 _When we were gone astray_  
 _Oh tidings of comfort and joy_  
 _Comfort and joy_  
 _Oh tidings of comfort and joy_

Finally, the dog was asleep and Harri kept on with just the line of God rest ye merry gentleman let nothing you dismay over and over again. She motioned for the others to check and see if Filch was gone, and they found that he indeed was. Carefully and still singing softly, the four students left the room. All of them safe from harm.

The adrenalin that they all felt caused them to take off in a run as soon as they were in the corridor. Filch must have hurried off to look for them somewhere else- but they hardly cared. They didn't stop running until they reached the portrait of the Fat Lady on the seventh floor.

"Where on earth have you all been?" she asked, looking at their bathrobes hanging off their shoulders and their flushed, sweaty faces.

"Never mind that- pig snout, pig snout," panted Harri, and the portrait swung forward. They scrambled into the common room and collapsed, trembling, into armchairs.

It was a while before any of them said anything. Neville, indeed, looked as if he'd never speak again.

"What do they think they're doing, keeping a thing like that locked up in a school?" Ron said finally. "If any dog needs exercise, that one does."

Hermione had got both her breath and her bad temper back again. "You don't use your eyes, any of you, do you?" She snapped. "Didn't you see what it was standing on?"

Neville nodded, "A trap door. It's great big paw was laying on it," he said with a shiver. Hermione looked a bit surprised that Neville, who had been nearly numb with terror, had noticed it at all.

"Yes," she said, deflated. "It's obviously guarding something." She stood up. "Well, tonight was obviously a disaster. Come on Harri, let's get to bed."

Harri suddenly had something else to think about as she climbed into bed. The dog was guarding something… What had Hagrid said? Gringotts was the safest place in the world for something you wanted to hide- except perhaps Hogwarts.

It looked as though Harri had found out where the grubby little package from vault seven hundred and thirteen was.


	9. Invisus: Halloween

Malfoy couldn't believe his eyes when he saw that Harri and Hermione were still at Hogwarts the next day, looking tired by perfectly cheerful. Indeed, by the next morning, Harri and Ron thought that meeting the three-headed dog had been an excellent adventure, and they were quite keen to have another one. Hermione and Neville thought that they were barmy.

In the meantime, Harri filled in her three friends about the package that seemed to have been moved from Gringotts to Hogwarts, and they spent a lot of time wondering what could possibly need such heavy protection while still being so small.

"It's either really valuable or really dangerous," said Ron.

"Or both," squeaked Neville.

"I think dangerous is more likely," said Hermione thoughtfully. "If it was just valuable, then Gringotts would have done well enough for it. But for some reason, Dumbledore doesn't want it falling into the wrong hands."

"If it's dangerous why on earth would it be at a school!" Ron exclaimed, his freckles standing out against his white face.

"All I think," began Neville, "Is that we should never go near that dog again. Three heads! How do you keep yourself from being bit!"

"Singing," Hermione reminded him. "Harri, how on earth did you know to do that."

"It was in a book I read," Harri explained. " _Fact and Myth of Ancient Creatures_."

"Oh I haven't gotten to that one yet," Hermione said in frustration. She was trying to read the entire Hogwarts library before graduation.

"Well lucky Harri did, at least she's learned something useful," said Ron, back to being derisive towards Hermione. Harri elbowed Ron, as was quickly becoming her habit. Hermione just glared at Ron and then flounced off to the library.

They all still wanted a way to get back at Malfoy, and such a thing arrived in the mail about a week later. Harri's new broomstick.

 _DO NOT OPEN THE PARCEL AT THE TABLE_

 _It contains your new Nimbus Two Thousand, but I don't want everybody knowing you've got a broomstick or they'll all want one. Oliver Wood will meet you tonight on the Quidditch field at seven o'clock for your first training session_

 _Professor M McGonagall_

Harri had difficulty hiding her glee at the new broom as she handed the note to Ron and Neville to read.

"A Nimbus Two Thousand!" Ron moaned enviously. "I've never even touched one."

Used to the pang of envy Harri said, "Let's all go flying this weekend then. You can give it a go too!"

Neville shook his head firmly. "Have fun without me." But Ron seemed to cheer up at the idea.

They left the hall quickly, wanting to unwrap the broomstick in private before their first class, but halfway across the entrance hall, they found the way upstairs barred by Crabbe and Goyle. Malfoy seized the package from Harri and felt it.

"That's a broomstick," he said, throwing it back to Harri with a mixture of jealousy and spite on his face. "You'll be in for it this time, Potter, first years aren't allowed them."

Ron couldn't resist it.

"It's not any old broomstick," he said, "it's a Nimbus Two Thousand. What did you say you've got a home, Malfoy, a Comet Two Sixty?" Ron grinned at Harri, "Comets look flashy, but they're not in the same league as the Nimbus."

"What would you know about it, Weasley, you couldn't afford half the handle," Malfoy snapped back. "I suppose you and your brothers have to save up twig by twig."

Before Ron could answer, Professor Flitwick appeared at Malfoy's elbow. "Not arguing, I hope."

"Potter's been sent a broomstick, Professor," said Malfoy quickly.

"Yes, yes, that's right," said Professor Flitwick, beaming at Harri. "Professor McGonagall told me all about the special circumstances, Potter. And what model is it?"

"A Nimbus Two Thousand, sir," said Harri fighting not to laugh at the look of horror on Malfoy's face. "And it's really thanks to Malfoy here that I've got it," she added.

* * *

Harri was due to meet with Professor Snape in the Hospital Wing after her first class. While double potions could at times be difficult, it appeared Snape was trying much harder to be neutral towards Gryffindor.

They had slowly begun to extract memories of the Dursley's abuse from Harri's head. She didn't like remembering them or letting them be seen by anyone. However, the knowledge that they would protect her from the Dursley's kept her from protesting.

After the first session, Harri had assured Professor McGonagall that she was comfortable enough with Professor Snape to meet in the Hospital Wing without her direct presence. Madame Pomphry was obviously still in the room, but she was no longer sitting beside Harri holding her hand either.

"It's easier if it's more private," Harri had explained to the two women. "I don't want… I don't want to think about who all will see this. I'd rather pretend it's just one person."

At first, she hadn't understood why it had to be Professor Snape who looked through her head. "Why aren't you doing it?" she had asked Madame Pomphry.

"Professor Snape is a master of the mind arts," the matron had responded with a hint of reverence. "He's a master of several subjects. Defense, Mind Magic, Potions. He's a journeyman in Healing as well."

"And you're not?" she asked Madame Pomphry.

"Oh no, dear. I'm a Master of Healing, with an emphasis in pediatrics. But one of the benefits of being at a school is that we have many masters within these halls to act as a consult."

"Which Professor has the most masteries?" Harri had asked, curious.

"I imagine Professor Dumbledore. I know he has Transfiguration, he used to teach it. He also is a Master of the Mind Arts, because Professor Snape trained under him. He is a Zoologist and an accomplished Dueler. Not to mention he did an apprenticeship under Nicholas Flammel for alchemy. It's hard to say which formal routes he's gone through, but he certainly has experience in a very wide range of subjects."

"Wow,' Harri said. "There really is so much to learn even after Hogwarts."

Harri had just finished pulling up a particularly painful memory for Professor Snape about a time when she was five. Uncle Vernon had shouted at her about her inability to do anything well after she had accidentally poured bacon fat on herself, burning her legs and arms. Her mind flashed towards the broomstick she had unwrapped, and anxiety about Quidditch filled her. She would be expected by all of Gryffindor to be good at Quidditch.

"I don't much care for flying," Snape commented.

Harri jumped. "I thought you just saw the memories about the Dursleys," she said indignantly.

"Use your head girl," he hissed. "I am in your mind. While there, your every fancy and distraction is apparent to me."

Harri blushed, feeling foolish. "I like to fly," she muttered while looking down. "I just don't know about actually performing a sport. I may let everyone down."

"I doubt it," Snape said. "Your father was an obnoxiously good Quidditch player. Strutted around the whole school after every game."

Snape would sometimes make comments like this. It was very clear he hadn't cared for her father. It frustrated her, because she wanted to think the best of her father. Snape certainly wasn't helping, because so far he was her main account of him.

"Please stop making comments like that," she whispered. Snape glared. "I know, I realize you didn't like him. But I never knew him. And as far as I know, he died protecting me. I want to love my father. But I don't know much about him other than his name was James."

Snape signed, looking very strained. "I will do my best, Miss. Potter. Your father and I did not get along at Hogwarts. I imagine if you want a more flattering account you should write to Remus Lupin."

"Who?" Harri asked in excitement.

"Remus Lupin. He was a good friend of your fathers at Hogwarts. The only one unscathed by the war. If you would like to know about your father, I imagine he would give you the most… caring account."

"What about my mother?" Harri asked. "Who were her friends? Do you think I could write one of them about her?" This horrible session was turning into a wonderful thing. People who knew her parents!

Snape's face looked very pained. He looked like he didn't want to continue the conversation, anger flashed across his face, then he closed his eyes and pinched his nose. He looked tired and resigned. "I suppose… I would be the one who could tell you the most about Lily."

Harri stared at him in shock. "What?" Harri asked.

"Lily… Lily and I were close friends for many years. I was the one who told her she was a witch."

"You did? You grew up with my mother?" Harri asked in muted excitement. Snape looked so very sad.

"I wouldn't say 'grew up'. We lived near each other in Cokeworth. But I didn't associate with other children very much. My home life… left much to be desired. I didn't want other children to know." Harri nodded, understanding that perfectly.

"I noticed your mother. It would have been hard not to. Even as a young girl she was very beautiful. Full of energy, like the sun really. She did magic like breathing." Snape looked wistful.

"Her sister was yelling at her one day in the park after she did magic. Neither of them knew what it was, and Petunia kept calling her a freak. Your mother looked so sad…"

"You knew Aunt Petunia too?" Harri asked, having forgotten that obviously, Aunt Petunia would have grown up in Cokeworth too.

Snape's lips twisted. "Your memories have only shown me what I already knew. That Petunia was a hateful, horrid woman. She was no different as a child."

"But you saw my mother performing magic?" Harri asked.

"Yes, and it was breathtaking. I went over and told her what it was…." He trailed off, his hand clasped around the silver covering on his wrist.

Harri realized something. It came out of her mouth before she could stop herself. "My mother was your soulmate." His face twisted in shocked anger.

She instantly flinched, covering her head with her arms, realizing that Professor Snape would surely hit her for saying such a thing; would curse her or yell at her. Stupid Harri. You didn't talk about these things. Why couldn't she keep protocol straight? She would never do anything right.

No blow came. Only silence.

She peaked back up at Professor Snape. He was sitting very still, looking at her with pained pity. "Miss. Potter…. If your mother was alive you would never react the way you do to these things." He sighed. "It does not matter what your mother was to me. I was not her soulmate, and she eventually married the man who was."

"You must hate me," Harri said shakily.

"No, Miss. Potter. You are a child who was put into an impossible situation. Your parent's death, and those who caused it, pain me far more than you ever could."

Harri saw nothing but the truth on her professor's face. "Thank you for sharing this with me, sir. I know it wasn't easy."

"You are sharing things with me that are not easy either, Miss. Potter. Let us call it tit for tat."

Harri nodded, and they returned to the matter of collecting Harri's memories. She had a new warmth for her professor. Harri now had the knowledge of why he wanted to help her, it was for her mother.

* * *

Harri returned from Quidditch practice that night feeling much better about the prospect of playing for the house team. It turned out that the seeker's main job was simply to fly around. Most people forgot about them until the snitch was caught. While she was still dubious about the entire prospect, it seemed like something she could manage. If only so she could fly.

The Nimbus flew like a dream. Harri had never felt so free. She soared around the pitch like a blur, pulling off loops and dives that she somehow just knew how to perform. Oliver Wood, the Gryffindor Quidditch captain, was practically singing by the end of her practice.

"That Quidditch cup'll have our name on it this year," he had exclaimed happily as they trudged back up to the cast. "I wouldn't be surprised if you turn out better than Charlie Weasley, and he could have played for England if he hadn't gone off chasing dragons."

Harri's mood was let down when she entered her dorm though. Parvati and Lavender were down in the common room playing Exploding Snap with Neville and Ron. Harri was looking forward to shower and bed.

She found Hermione crying on her bed, Gulliver purring and rubbing himself against Hermione's side.

"Hermione!" Harri exclaimed, rushing toward her. "What is it? What happened?"

Hermione looked up, her face streaked with tears. "I ran into Malfoy, that prat. I don't know why I'm crying. It's stupid. This whole thing is stupid."

Harri hugged her friend, sitting next to her on the bed. "I know Hermione. I really do. I'm so sorry you have a horrible soulmate. He's the absolute worst, but you don't have to have anything to do with him."

"It's not that I do want anything to do with him," Hermione sobbed. "I just wanted someone who would like me. I've always been a bossy prude or a bookworm with no friends. I know that's what people think of me. And when I heard about soulmates, I thought… well I thought that at least one person would have to like me. And he's an utter twat."

"We can be each other's soulmates then, Hermione. I never had any friends before you either."

"You say that now," Hermione said with a gasping sob, "But one day someone will say your words, and you won't think that anymore. You'll get tired of me, and I'll just be alone with my books."

"Someone already said my words, Hermione," Harri said in a whisper. Hermione looked up from Harri's shoulder, tears still dripping down her face.

"You never said anything," Hermione said with a slight accusation in her tone.

Harri shook her head, "And I never will look at those words again if I can help it. But trust me, Hermione," and here a few tears started to drip down Harri's face, "I will never be with my soulmate. They're the worst kind of person… worse than Draco Malfoy I'd even say." She tried to say the last part as a joke, but Hermione didn't bite. She seemed to understand that Harri wasn't joking.

"It's not Professor Snape is it?" Hermione asked.

"Eww, Hermione!" Harri exclaimed. That morning's conversation with the professor was still fresh in her mind.

Hermione let out a half hiccup giggle.

"We can really be each other's soulmates, Hermione," Harri assured. "Maybe one day Draco Malfoy will be less of a pratt. But until then, you'll have me. I promise." The two friends hugged, and while neither one of them felt completely better about their horrible soulmarks, they felt assured by the company of their first friend.

* * *

Perhaps it was because she was not so busy, what with Quidditch practice three evenings a week on top of all her homework, but Harri could hardly believe it when she realized she'd already been at Hogwarts two months. The castle felt more like home than Privet Drive ever had. Her lessons, too, were becoming more and more interesting now that they had mastered the basics.

The possibility of blowing something up was still there for Harri, but she had taken Professor Snape's advice about 'clearing her mind' before attempting magic so that it would channel correctly. He had even given her a book on Occlumency, saying that the mind art would help her overpowered spells.

Harri had never tried meditation before, but Occlumency seemed a lot like the muggle practice. Snape's eye had twitched when she had said as much.

On Halloween morning they woke up to the delicious smell of baking pumpkins wafting through the corridors. Even better, Professor Flitwick announced in Charms that he thought they were ready to start making objects fly, something they had all been dying to try since they'd seen him make Neville's toad zoom around the classroom. Professor Flitwick put the class in pairs to practice. Harri's partner was Lavender, which was good fun. Lavender had just gotten a new copy of Witch Weekly and was telling Harri her horoscope between spell attempts.

"So you're a Leo," Lavender was saying, " _The social agitation that has been in your life for the last three weeks is coming to an end, Leo. The celestial energy will help you learn some lessons and prepare for the next cycle. It would be great if you had some success and honors because this would help you confront the coming weeks. It will be a time of meditation and feeling a little bit disconnected from the world_."

Harri could hear Hermione and Ron bickering at the next table. She turned to Lavender, "They're my social agitation. Do you think they're going to make friends now?"

"It's what the stars predict," Lavender said solemnly, before attempting to levitate her feather.

"You're saying it all wrong," Harri head Hermione snap. "It's Wing-gar-dium Levi-o-sa make the 'gar' nice and long."

"You do it then, if you're so clever." Ron snarled.

Hermione rolled up the sleeves of her gown, flicked her wand, and said, _"Wingardium Leviosa!_ " Their feather rose off the desk and hovered about four feet above their heads.

"Oh well done!" cried Professor Flitwick, clapping. "Everyone see here, Miss. Granger's done it!"

Ron was in a very bad mood by the end of class. Harri and Hermione were walking behind him, he was talking to Neville. "She's the absolute worst! It's no wonder Malfoy doesn't want anything to do with her! I almost feel sorry for him, she's a nightmare."

Harri turned to Hermione, and she saw her friend's face crumble into tears. Hermione knocked into Neville as she ran away. Harri began to run after her, but paused to snap angrily at Ron, "You utter prat. Why would you say something like that!"

Harri was able to track Hermione down with the help of Parvati and Lavender. She was crying in the girl's bathroom and wanted to be left alone. The feast would be starting soon, and Hermione was shooing them away. Parvati and Lavender left with some hesitation, but Harri wouldn't budge.

"Please Harri, I just want to be alone," Hermione said through tears.

"Let me be alone with you then," Harri replied, sitting outside the stall Hermione was in. "I won't say anything till you say something to me. But I'll be right out here if you need me."

Eventually, Hermione came out and the two sat against the wall and talked about things other than Ron Weasley or Draco Malfoy. They talked about the Muggle world, and Hermione confessed that she had no idea what she would be once she left Hogwarts.

"I always thought I'd be a barrister or scientist. I just don't know how that translates to the magical world."

"Well I know we can do apprenticeships after Hogwarts in specific fields to become a Master. Madame Pomphry was telling me about it," Harri explained.

They were so engrossed with their conversation that they didn't notice the troll that had come into the bathroom until it let out a low roar.

The girls turned from their position against the wall and saw a horrible sight. Twelve feet tall, its skin was a dull, granite gray, its great lumpy body was like a boulder with its small bald head perched on top like a coconut. Not to mention the smell! Like old socks and a public toilet that never gets cleaned.

Hermione screamed first.

Both girls shot as far away from the troll as they could, and Harri was desperately trying to think of something that they could do against the monster. It had a giant club that it was lifting towards them. Distantly she thought she head someone calling hers and Hermione's names.

The troll began to knock sinks off the wall, each large noise made Harri jump in terror. What on Earth could they do? She didn't know any magic that would work against a troll. Except maybe trying to explode it.

' _Wingardium Leviosa_ ' Harri tried, completely overpowering her spell. The troll started to bleed from its nose which only made it seem angrier.

"Oy, pea-brain!" someone yelled. It was Ron. He was on the other side of the chamber with Neville, and he threw a metal pipe at the troll. The troll didn't even seem to notice the pipe hitting his shoulder, but it heard the yell and paused, turning its ugly snout toward Ron and Neville instead of Harri and Hermione. The two boys began to shout at the troll.

Harri tried to pull Hermione toward the door, but she wouldn't move, she was still flat against the wall, her mouth open with terror.

The shouting and the echoes seemed to be driving the troll berserk. It roared again and started toward Ron, who was nearest and had no way of escape.

Harri then did something that was both very brave and very stupid: She took a great running jump and managed to fasten her arms around the troll's neck from behind. The troll couldn't feel Harri hanging there, but even a troll will notice if you still a long bit of wood up its nose, and Harri's wand had still been in her hand when she'd jumped- it had gone straight up one of the trolls bloody nostrils.

Howling with pain, the troll twisted and flailed its club, with Harri clinging on for dear life; any second, the troll was going to rip her off or catch her with a terrible blow with the club.

Hermione had sunk to the floor in fright; Ron pulled out his own wand- not knowing what he was going to do he heard himself cry the first spell that came into his head: " _Wingardium Leviosa!_ "

The club flew suddenly out of the troll's hand, rose high, high up into the air, turned slowly over- and dropped, with a sickening crack, onto its owner's head. The troll swayed on the spot and then fell flat on its face, with a thud that made the whole room tremble.

Harri got to her feet. She was shaking and out of breath. Ron was standing there with his wand still raised, staring at what he had done. Neville looked a bit amazed that he had even come on this adventure. It was the three-headed dog all over again.

It was Hermione who spoke first. "Is it- dead?"

"I don't think so," said Harri, "I think it's just been knocked out." She bent down and pulled her wand out of the troll's nose. It was covered in what looked like lumpy gray glue and blood. "Ugh- troll boogers."

She wiped it on the troll's trousers.

A sudden slamming and loud footsteps made the three of them look up. They hadn't realized what a racket they had been making, but of course, someone downstairs must have head the crashes and the troll's roars. A moment later, Professor McGonagall had come bursting into the room, closely followed by Snape, with Quirrel bringing up the rear. Quirrel took one look at the troll, let out a faint whimper, and sat quickly down on a toilet, clutching his heart.

Snape bent over the troll. Professor McGonagall was looking at the four of them. Harri had never seen her look so angry. Her lips were white.

"What on earth were you thinking of?" said Professor McGonagall, with cold fury in her voice. Harri looked at Ron and Neville, who had clearly known about the troll and come looking for her and Hermione.

Then a small voice came out of the shadows. "Please, Professor McGonagall- they were looking for me."

"Miss. Granger!"

Hermione had managed to get to her feet at last. "I went looking for the troll because I- I thought I could deal with it on my own- you know because I 've read all about them."

Ron dropped his wand. Hermione Granger, telling a downright lie to a teacher?

"If they hadn't found me, I'd be dead now. Neville distracted it, then Harri stuck her wand up its nose, and Ron knocked it out with its own club." Harri rather thought her tackle tactic could have been omitted. "They didn't have time to come and fetch anyone. It was about to finish me off when they arrived."

Harri, Ron, and Neville tried to look as though this story wasn't new to them.

"Well- in that case…" said Professor McGonagall, staring at the four of them, "Miss. Granger, you foolish girl, how could you think of tackling a mountain troll on your own?"

Hermione hung her head. Harri was speechless. Hermione was the last person to do anything against the rules, and here she was, pretending she had, to get Ron and Neville out of trouble. It was as if Snape had started handing out sweets.

"Miss. Granger, five points will be taken from Gryffindor for this," said Professor McGonagall. "I'm very disappointed in you. If you're not hurt at all, you'd better get off to Gryffindor tower. Students are finishing the feast in their houses."

Hermione left.

Professor McGonagall turned to Harri, Ron, and Neville.

"Well, I still say you were lucky, but not many first years could have taken on a full-grown mountain troll. You each win Gryffindor five points. Professor Dumbledore will be hearing about this. You may go."

They hurried out of the chamber and didn't speak at all until they had climbed two floors up. It was a relief to be away from the smell of the troll, quite apart from anything else.

"We should have gotten more than fifteen points," Ron grumbled.

"Ten you mean, once she's taken off Hermione's," said Neville.

"Good of her to get us out of trouble like that," Ron admitted. "Mind you, we did save you both."

"It was good of you both to come, I don't know what we would have done," Harri responded, taking both of their hands.

They reached the portrait of the Fat Lady.

"Pig Snout," they said and entered.

The common room was packed and noisy. Everyone was eating the food that had been sent up. Hermione, however, stood alone by the door, waiting for them. There was a very embarrassed pause. Then, none of them looking at each other, they all said "Thanks," and hurried off to get plates.

But from that moment on, Hermione Granger became friends with Ron Weasley. There are some things you can't share without ending up liking each other, and knocking out a twelve-foot mountain troll is one of them.

Lavender and her stars, Harri realized, had been right.


	10. Invisus: Quidditch

Three days after the incident with the troll, Harri received a letter. It was a month in coming, and Harri had begun to wonder if she would ever receive a reply to the note she had dispatched to Remus Lupin. Her own note had read:

 _Dear Mr. Lupin,_

 _My name is Harri Potter and I have learned from a professor of mine at Hogwarts, Professor Snape, that you knew my father quite well at Hogwarts. I don't know much about my parents. My aunt and uncle didn't talk about them, and I didn't know about magic until I received my Hogwarts letter. I was hoping that you might be able to tell me about my father. I don't have anything specific in mind, maybe just something kinder than what Professor Snape has to say about him. In any case, I hope this letter finds you well, and that if it isn't an inconvenience you could write me back._

 _Harri_

It had taken five drafts before Harri felt comfortable sending the letter off with one of the school owls. She hadn't wanted to come across as an ignorant school-girl, though she was pretty sure she had. Harri just hadn't written many letters in her life. She didn't know how to address Remus Lupin. She could only hope that he might write back.

And he did.

 _Dear Harri,_

 _I apologize for the late reply, I was recently ill and was indisposed for about a week. I was very shocked to receive your letter, and even more surprised to hear that you live with your Aunt and Uncle. Your mother and her sister did not get along._

 _Harri, your father was the best of men in my eyes. I miss him dearly, and it saddens me greatly that you don't know anything about him. We were dorm mates in Hogwarts. I was often ill, and your father went above and beyond when it came to assisting me at school. There was never a time or a place that I was happier, and that was largely thanks to your father and our friends at the time._

 _In school, your father and I formed a group called The Mauraders, and we got into trouble often. Your father was very clever with a wand and enjoyed making mischief whenever possible. Our seventh year your father was Head Boy along with your mother as Head Girl. It was the first year he didn't blow anything up. Perhaps it was the long nights patrolling the corridors, but your mother finally agreed to give your father a chance._

 _They were soulmates and knew it from the moment they got on the Hogwarts Express. I think at first Lily was enamored with him, but James being eleven, wasn't very mature yet. By the end of the first week, Lily declared that there must be some mistake._

 _So finally, they started seeing each other and fell madly in love. Their happiness only grew when you were born, Harri. If I can tell you anything in this letter that your parents would want you to know it is this- they loved you completely. More than anything in the world, including their own lives. I wish they could have seen you grow up. In a perfect world, you would have grown up with your parents and three strange uncles. I still mourn dearly that isn't the world you live in._

 _I can remember the day you were born with perfect clarity. Your mother was overdue by about a week, and your father was losing his mind. Lily begged us to get him out of the house, so we took him out to a pub for a few hours. By the time we made it back to Godric's Hollow, Lily had already left for St. Mungo's. Her friend Alice was in the healer training program and had stayed with Lily until we dragged your not so sober father to the hospital. Your father made more noise than your mother honestly. Running around like a madman. He had no idea what to do with himself. Until he held you for the first time. He looked down at you in his arms, and the man I knew changed. He had looked so lost before, none of us had any idea what it would be like to be a parent. He was looking down at you, and it was as if his entire world shifted._

 _I hope this letter finds you well,_

 _Remus (Mooney) Lupin_

Harri was glad she had elected to read this letter in private. It was a much better account of her father than the one Professor Snape had given, she thought, dabbing her eyes.

* * *

As they entered November, the weather turned very cold. The mountains around the school became icy gray and the lake like chilled steel. Every morning the ground was covered with frost. Hagrid could be seen from the upstairs windows defrosting broomsticks on the Quidditch field, bundled up in a long moleskin overcoat, rabbit fur gloves, and enormous beaverskin boots.

The Quidditch season had begun. On Saturday, Harri would be playing her first match after weeks of training: Gryffindor vs. Slytherin. If Gryffindor won, they would move up into second place in the house championship.

Hardly anyone had seen Harri play because Wood had decided that, as their secret weapon, Harri should be kept, well, secret. But the news that she was playing Seeker had leaked out somehow, and Harri didn't know which was worse- people telling her she'd be brilliant or people telling her they'd be running around underneath her holding a mattress. She was worried she would spend the entire match semi-visible out of sheer embarrassment.

Harri was ever thankful that she had Hermione as a friend. She didn't know how she would have gotten through all her homework without her, what with all the last-minute Quidditch practice Wood was making them do. She had also lent Harri _Quidditch Through the Ages_ , which turned out to be a very interesting read.

Hermione had become a bit more relaxed about breaking rules since Ron and Neville had saved them from the mountain troll, and she was much nicer for it. The day before Harri's first Quidditch match the four of them were out in the freezing courtyard during a break, and she had conjured them up a bright blue fire that could be carried around in a jam jar. They were standing with their backs to it, getting warm, when Snape crossed the yard. Harri noticed at once that he was limping.

He was also clearly in a foul temper. Something about their guilty faces caught his eye. He limped over. He hadn't seen the fire, but he seemed to be looking for a reason to tell them off anyway.

"It's Friday, Miss. Potter. Have you been to the hospital wing today?"

"No sir, I was…"

"Do not waste Madame Pomphry's time then. If you are supposed to go in the morning I suggest you use your breaks more wisely than loitering around."

He then limped off. Harri's relationship with Professor Snape was complicated, to say the least. She liked the man. Strangely. He wasn't nice. In fact, he was usually quite rude to her. He did not cut her, or any Gryffindor, slack in his class. He was always sticking his hooked nose into her business.

Yet, he seemed to mean well in a lot of it. Neville had officially caused three separate explosions in potions class. So Snape seeming snappish in class was probably warranted. If directions weren't followed students ended up in the Hospital Wing. He did favor Slytherin, but he wasn't blatantly taking points away from Gryffindor.

"Wonder what's wrong with his leg?' Neville asked as Harri packed up her bag to head to the Hospital Wing before their next class.

"Dunno, but I hope it's really hurting him," said Ron bitterly.

* * *

The Gryffindor common room was very noisy that evening. Harri, Ron, Hermione, and Neville sat together next to a window. Hermione was checking their Charms homework. She wouldn't let anyone copy, but by asking her to check they got the answers right anyway.

Harri was due to head down to one of her meetings with Snape. What a way to spend a Friday night, she thought grimly. They were nearly done collecting her memories at least. Harri was quickly running out of memories of blatant abuse, but Snape was starting to give her prompts to see if anything new came to mind. They wanted to be as thorough as possible, to get a complete record of Harri's time with the Dursleys.

Harri bid her friends goodbye and wandered down to the Hospital Wing. She peeked inside but didn't' see anyone. There were no injured students, and the lamps were all low. Madame Pomfrey had a light under her office door, but the door was shut. Snape wasn't here. Harri checked the time, she herself was already ten minutes late.

She made her way to the staff room and knocked. There was no answer. She knocked again. Nothing. She could hear muffled talking inside, maybe they couldn't hear her? Perhaps Snape was inside… she pushed the door ajar and peered inside- and a horrible scene met her eyes.

Snape and Filch were inside, alone. Snape was holding his robes above his knees. One of his legs was bloody and mangled. Filch was handing Snape bandages.

"Blasted thing," Snape was saying. "How are you supposed to keep your eyes on all three heads at once?"

Harri realized this was not a scene that was meant for her eyes. She tried to shut the door quietly, but-

"POTTER!"

Snape's face was twisted with fury as he dropped his robes quickly to hid his leg. Harri felt her magic frizzle around her. The pure rage in Snape's voice reminded her viciously of Uncle Vernon… she could see his face clearly. His big beefy neck pulsating with rage, his face gone purple… his fists curled.

She was frozen. Why did she always freeze? She wanted to run, she couldn't run.

Whatever Snape was saying to her, she couldn't hear. She was suddenly lost in memories of Uncle Vernon's rage. Of his purple face twisted in hate, the way he shouted her name, "POTTER!" or "GIRL".

A hand was on her shoulder. She flinched back at the sudden touch, tripped over the back of her robes, and fell to the ground. She looked up, mentally back at Hogwarts and away from Privet Drive.

Snape didn't look nearly so angry now. He looked resigned, as he often did around Harri.

"You should have waited in the Hospital Wing," he said with a hiss.

Harri only nodded, not sure of what to say. He extended a hand and helped her to her feet. He motioned for her to come, and led her back the way she had come. When they reached the Hospital Wing it was now thirty minutes past their appointed meeting time.

With a wave of his wand, light filled the wing. They moved to their usual table in the far corner, and Snape took a seat. Harri hesitated.

"Sir," she began, "Why haven't you had Madame Pomfrey heal that? Cerberus bites have corrosive agents in them from the saliva."

Snape's eyes narrowed at her. "And how would you know that, Miss. Potter."

"I read about it at the Library. I like zoology."

"Let me rephrase then. What do you know about the Cerberus in the school"

"I'd rather not say, sir." Snape looked up at the ceiling and seemed rather like he was counting to ten.

"Have you been in the same room as the beast, Miss. Potter."

"Well… um… yes."

"And it didn't bite you?" Snape said with clear exasperation in his voice.

"Well no, I know how to make it go to sleep," Harri replied.

"And I suppose this was also in your library book?'

"Yes." Harri met Snape's eyes for a moment and thought about the dog being fast asleep in the third corridor.

"Are you trying to steal whatever the dog is guarding?" Harri asked the question before it was fully formed in her mind. As always with such a question, she regretted it immediately. Anger could be the only response.

But Snape didn't look angry, only very wary. "How do you know the dog is guarding something, Potter?"

"I was with Hagrid when he collected a package from Gringotts. I didn't see what it was. But Gringotts was broken into later that day."

"Aren't you quite the detective," Snape replied with a sneer. He looked very far from happy.

"Miss. Potter, I must implore you to keep this information to yourself. It is not I trying to steal such a thing. But what is being held here at Hogwarts is of the utmost importance. It must not be stolen."

"Then why were you with the dog?"

"Use your head you silly girl. Why would a troll be in Hogwarts? As a distraction. I saw through that," he spat.

Harri simply stared at her Professor. "You were protecting it."

"Yes," Snape hissed.

Harri nodded… still not entirely sure what had occurred Halloween Night.

"I think," Snape said, "that we will not meet tonight. Back to your common room. I won't have it said that Slytherin won because I kept the Gryffindor seeker detained till late in the night."

The game. Even Snape was thinking about it. Harri felt the nerves that had followed her around for the last two weeks catch up to her again.

"Everyone will hate me if I'm no good," Harri said glumly; confessing what she had worried about for weeks.

"It is a foolish sport, Miss. Potter. I myself detest flying. Anyone who links one's ability to fly with a person's character is not worth your time."

"That was strangely comforting, Professor."

"God help me if I am giving comfort to a Potter," Snape replied, a rueful twist to his lips. Harri felt that she had been forgiven her for seeing his leg, and replied with a small smile of her own.

"Goodnight, Professor."

"Goodnight, Harriet."

* * *

The next morning dawned very bright and cold. The Great Hall was full of the delicious smell of fried sausages and the cheerful chatter of everyone looking forward to a good Quidditch match.

"You've got to eat some breakfast,"

"I don't want anything."

"Just a bit of toast," wheedled Hermione.

"I'm not hungry."

Harri felt terrible. In an hour's time, she'd be walking onto the field.

"Harri, you need your strength," said Seamus Finnigan. "Seekers are always the ones who get clobbered by the other team."

"Thanks, Seamus," said Harri, watching Seamus pile ketchup on his sausages.

Lavender and Parvati were sitting nearby, consulting Witch Weekly's horoscope page. Lavender read Leo aloud. " _You may feel a bit stodgy today, Leo, but things are going to pick up tonight. There will be a great deal of air to fuel your fire, and you're ready to burn! You could be like a desert of dry sagebrush just ready to be set alight. The whole mountainside is about to go up in a beautiful blaze of glory. You're ready to shine like the brilliant star that you are"_

"Looks great then, Harri! The stars will be in your favor. Air to feed your fire. Leo is a fire sign after all" Parvati exclaimed. Harri wasn't sure if that was what the horoscope had meant.

Hermione just shook her head and muttered about what tosh horoscopes were.

* * *

By eleven o'clock the whole school seemed to be out in the stands around the Quidditch pitch. Many students had binoculars. The seats might be raised high in the air, but it was still difficult to see what was going on sometimes.

The first year Gryffindors were all sitting together in the top row. As a surprise for Harri, they had painted a large banner on one of the sheets Scabbers had ruined. It said Potter for President, and Dean who was good at drawing, had done a large Gryffindor lion underneath. Lavender and Parvati had managed to paint it to look very like the real Gryffindor crest, and Hermione had enchanted the lion to move and look like it was roaring.

Meanwhile, in the locker room, Harri and the rest of the team were changing into their scarlet Quidditch robes (Slytherin would be playing in green).

Wood cleared his throat for silence.

"Okay men," he said.

"And women, there are more women than men on the team Oliver," said Chaser Angelina Johnson.

"And women," Wood agreed. "This is it."

"The big one," said Fred Weasley.

"The one we've all be waiting for," said George.

"We know Oliver's speech by heart," Fred told Harri, "we were on the team last year."

"Shut up, you two," said Wood. "This is the best team Gryffindor's had in years. We're going to win. I know it."

"Two years without Charlie and everyone acts like the team went to the dogs," George whispered to Harri.

Oliver just glared at them all, as if to say win or else.

"Right. It's time. Good luck, all of you."

Harri followed Fred and George out of the locker room and, hoping her knees weren't going to give way, walked onto the field to loud cheers.

* * *

So far the game hadn't been going badly. Gryffindor was in the lead, and Harri was managing to dodge the bludgers that were headed her way. It was easy enough to avoid hearing the commentary or think about the stands below. All that mattered was the Snitch.

However, it was as Harri dodged another Bludger, which went spinning dangerously past her head, that it happened. Her broom gave a sudden, frightening lurch. For a split second, she thought she was going to fall. She grabbed the broom tightly with both hands and knees. She'd never felt anything like this.

It happened again. It was as though the broom as trying to buck her off. But Nimbus Two Thousands did not suddenly decide to buck their riders off. Harri tried to turn back toward the Gryffindor goal post, she had half a mind to ask Wood to call a time-out, and then she realized that her broom was completely out of her control. She couldn't turn it. She couldn't direct it at all. It was zigzagging through the air, and every now and then making violent swishing movements that almost unseated her.

Her broom then began to roll over, with Harri only just managing to hold on. Then the whole crowd gasped. Harri's broom had given a wild jerk and Harri swung off it. She was now dangling from it, holding on with only one hand.

The whole crowds was on its feet, terrified. The Weasleys flew up to try and pull Harri safely onto one of their brooms, but it was no good- every time they got near her, the broom would jump higher still. They dropped lower and circled beneath her, obviously hoping to catch her if she fell.

Finally, for whatever reason, Harri was suddenly able to take back control. She clambered back on to her broom, and in her relief, she saw a glimmer of gold. Harri dove. She was speeding toward the ground when the crowd saw her clap her hand to her mouth as though she was about to be sick. She hit the field on all fours- coughed- and something gold fell into her hand.

"I've got the Snitch!" she shouted, waving it above her head, and the game ended in complete confusion. Gryffindor had won by one hundred and seventy points to sixty.

* * *

"It was Snape," Ron was explaining. "Hermione and I saw him. He was cursing your broomstick, muttering, he wouldn't take his eyes off you."

"But he wouldn't!" Harri exclaimed. "I like Snape, why would he want to make me fall off my broom." Then Harri remembered their conversation last night. Harri knew about the three-headed dog. She knew that Snape had tried to get into the corridor.

"Rubbish," Hagrid was saying to the others. "Why would Snape do somethin' like that?"

"I found out something about him," Harri said slowly. The others looked very curious. "I really don't think he would do anything though. He wouldn't. He… he was good friends with my mother. He's told me about her. Why would he try to kill me?"

Because you may know too much, Harri thought. What if it was all a front? Another person pretending to be kind to Harri. Pretending to care about Harri.

"What did you find out?" Hermione asked.

"He had a run in with the Cerberus on Halloween. He said he was stopping someone… whoever let the troll in. It bit him."

"But what if it was Snape who let the troll in!" Ron exclaimed.

"And Snape was trying to go through the trapdoor!" Neville added. Neville hated Professor Snape with a passion. Snape had taken to hovering over Neville during potions, which only made him more nervous and prone to messing up.

"How do you know about Fluffy?" Hagrid asked, not paying attention to Neville and Ron's accusations.

" _Fluffy_?"

"Yeah- he's mine- bought him off a Greek chappie I met in a pub las' year- I lent him to Dumbledore to guard the-"

"Yes?" said Harri eagerly.

"Now don't ask me any more," said Hagrid gruffly. "That's top secret, that is."

"But Snape's trying to steal it," said Ron.

"Rubbish," said Hagrid again. "Snape's a Hogwarts teacher, he'd do nothin' of the sort."

"So why did he try and kill Harri?" cried Hermione.

"We don't know he was trying to kill me," Harri defended.

"He was making eye contact!" Hermione nearly screeched. "I know a jinx when I see one, Harri. I've read all about them! You've got to keep eye contact, and Snape wasn't blinking at all, I saw him!"

"The fire could have made any number of people stop making eye contact," Harri shot back.

Hermione glared at her.

"How can you trust someone who may well have tried to murder you today, all because you knew he had tried to get past Fluffy on Halloween?" Neville asked with a frustrated tone.

"I'm tellin' yeh, yer wrong!" said Hagrid hotly. "I don' know why Harri's broom acted like that, but Snape wouldn't try to kill a student! Now, listen to me, all four of yeh- yer meddlin' in things that don' concern yeh. It's dangerous. You forget that dog, an' you forget what it's gaurdin', that's between Professor Dumbledore an' Nicolas Flamel-"

"Nicolas Flamel…" Harri muttered to herself. She was sure that she had heard the name before. "Did… did Dumbledore train with him?"

Hagrid looked furious with himself, and wouldn't answer Harri's question.


	11. Invisus: Custody

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy skies to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

Harri and Hermione both agreed that owl mail was ridiculous. Muggles had certainly figured out the better solution.

No one could wait for the holidays to start. While the Gryffindor common room and the Great Hall had roaring fires, the drafty corridors had become icy and a bitter wind rattled the windows in the classrooms. Worst of all was Professor Snape's classes down in the dungeons, where their breath rose in a mist before them and they kept as close as possible to their hot cauldrons.

"I do feel so sorry," said Draco Malfoy, one Potions class, "for all those people who have to stay at Hogwarts for Christmas because they're not wanted at home."

"Five points from Slytherin, Mr. Malfoy," Snape had sneered, before commenting that Hermione's potion had turned the correct shade of purple. Harri felt more certain than ever that Snape had not tried to kill her.

Malfoy had been even more unpleasant than usual since the Quidditch match. Disgusted that the Slytherins had lost, he had tried to get everyone laughing at how a wide-mouthed tree frog would be replacing Harri as Seeker next. Then he'd realized that nobody found this funny, because they were all so impressed at the way Harri had managed to stay on her bucking broomstick. So Malfoy, jealous and angry, had gone back to taunting Harri about having no proper family and both Harri and Hermione for being Muggle-raised.

"The traditions around wizarding Yule are incredibly intricate and important. I can't imagine settling for a plain muggle _Christmas_ after taking part in my families ritual," he had said loudly as he passed them in the corridor the week before.

Hermione, of course, had researched everything she could about wizarding Yule, but hadn't found much.

"Well you wouldn't," explained Neville when Hermione vented her frustration one night in the common room. "It would only be in the family grimoire. And we don't share those. It's rare to even take them out of your Gringotts Vault."

"There weren't any books in my vault!" Harri had exclaimed.

Neville's eye twitched. "They wouldn't be in your trust vault Harri," Neville said slowly.

"My what?" Harri had asked.

She wasn't imagining it, Neville's eye actually twitched. "Your trust vault. They wouldn't let you have access to all your families magical items before you're of age. That would be dangerous. So when a witch or wizards parents die or are… incapable of caring for them," and here Neville seemed to be struggling to explain, "the goblins take about five percent of the gold and put it in a trust vault. Some arrangments are different if your parents specifically set something up."

Harri realized that Neville was raised by his Gran. Not his parents. And she had never asked.

"Neville… are your parents dead too?" she asked.

Neville shook his head, he looked rather like he wanted to cry. "No. They're in St. Mungo's. This is the longest I've gone not seeing them. But Gran promised we'd go at Christmas."

"What happened to them?" Hermione asked gently.

"They… they were in the war. Something happened to them. Gran won't tell me much about it. But I think… I think they were tortured. They're mentally not okay. They don't… they don't know who I am. My mum, she gives me gum wrappers. She does every time we visit. But what if she doesn't this time? What if she's forgotten that we do that? It's been months!"

Neville was crying.

Surprisingly it was Ron who spoke first. "I'm sorry, mate." And Ron hugged Neville. Hermione and Harri quickly followed.

"Get a room," Fred shouted from across the common room.

"First years are always so soppy!" Added George.

"Shut up!" Ron called, ears pink.

* * *

Harri was quite relieved that she wasn't going anywhere near the Dursley's for Christmas. Professor McGonagall had come around the week before, making a list of students who would be staying for the holidays, and Harri had signed up at once. She didn't feel sorry for herself at all; this would probably be the best Christmas she'd ever had. Ron and his brothers were staying too, because Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were going to Romania to visit Charlie.

Professor Snape had even informed her that she would be going to the Ministry for her custody review over the break.

"Will I be a ward of the school then? Or will I get emancipated?" she had asked him.

Snape looked rather pained. "No. The Headmaster is unable to take on wards of the school. And no governing body would emancipate a young witch without full training. Who knows what you would get up to over the summers," Snape glared at her as if he thought she would run around Muggle London turning people into toads.

"Then who would be my guardian?" she asked.

"I am sure people will come forward. The court usually takes the wishes of the child very seriously. Since you are… Harriet Potter, the number of petitions that would come in for you would be quite extraordinary. If you have a preferred family it would be best to make that known now. To keep the petition process closed."

Harri bit her lip. In a way, she wanted to ask the grumpy professor if he would be her guardian. She didn't always like Snape. Sometimes he reminded her of Vernon Dursley when he reacted in anger. Yet, he also understood her. He didn't look at her with pity very often. He didn't treat her any differently from the other students in class. There were no soft touches on the shoulder like with Professor McGonagall, which always made Harri jump.

He might have tried to kill her though. Hermione, Ron, and Neville still seemed convinced.

But he had loved her mother. Harri knew that with certainty. Professor Snape talked about her mother with adoration and sadness. He had even once, in a quiet voice, said that sometimes she looked like her mother.

Severus Snape had loved Lily Evans. Harri felt certain that he would not insult her mother's memory by trying to murder her daughter.

So she asked.

"Would you?"

"Would I what, Potter?" Snape asked.

"Would you apply. To be my guardian. You were friends with my mother. Surely she would want someone who was her friend. Not a stranger."

There was that pained look again. He got it a lot around Harri.

"We can discuss this later," Snape had said, ushering her out of the classroom into the corridor where Hermione was waiting for her.

Harri and Hermione left the dungeons, catching up with Ron and Neville who had convened at the warmer top of the stairs. The corridor ahead was blocked by a large fir tree. Two enormous feet were sticking out at the bottom and a large puffing sound told them that Hagrid was behind it.

"Hi, Hagrid, want any help?" Ron asked, sticking his head through the branches.

"Nah, I'm all right, thanks, Ron."

"Would you mind moving out of the way?" came Malfoy's cold drawl from behind them. "Are you trying to earn some extra money, Weasley? Hoping to be gamekeeper yourself when you leave Hogwarts, I suppose- that hut of Hagrid's must seem like a palace compared to what your family's used to."

Ron dived at Malfoy just as Snape came up the stairs.

"WEASLEY!"

Ron let go of the front of Malfoy's robes.

"He was provoked, Professor Snape," said Hagrid, sticking his huge hairy face out from behind the tree. "Malfoy was insultin' his family."

"Be that as it may, fighting is against Hogwarts rules, Hagrid," said Snape silkily. "Five points from Gryffindor, Weasley, and be grateful it isn't more. Malfoy, control yourself. We have discussed comporting yourself in a more Slytherin like manner. Move along, all of you."

Malfoy's cheeks went pink, and he and Crabbe and Goyle pushed past the tree, scattering needles everywhere.

"I'll get him," said Ron grinding his teeth at Malfoy's back, "one of these days, I'll get him-"

"Get in line," Hermione hissed, still glaring at Malfoy's back.

"Come on, cheer up, it's nearly Christmas," said Hagrid. "Tell yeh what, come with me an' see the Great Hall, looks a treat."

So the tree of them followed Hagrid and his tree off to the Great Hall, where Professor McGonagall and Professor Flitwick were busy with the Christmas decorations.

"Ah, Hagrid, the last tree- put it in the far corner would you?"

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood all around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.

"How many days you got left until yer holidays?" Hagrid asked.

"Just one," said Hermione. "And that reminds me- Harri, Ron, Neville, we've got half an hour before lunch, we should be in the library."

"Oh yeah you're right," said Ron, tearing his eyes away from Professor Flitwick, who had golden bubbles blossoming out of his wand and was trailing them over the branches of the new tree.

"The library?" said Hagrid, following them out of the hall. "Just before the holidays? Bit keen, aren't yeh?"

"Oh we're not working," Neville told him brightly. "Ever since you mentioned Nicholas Flamel we've been trying to find out who he is."

"I'm fairly certain he and Dumbledore worked together," Harri added. "Which makes sense why he would be hiding whatever he's hiding here at Hogwarts."

"You what ?" Hagrid looked shocked. "List here- I've told yeh- drop it. It's nothin' to you what that dog's gaurdin'."

"We just want to know who Nicolas Flamel is, that's all," said Hermione.

"Unless you'd like to tell us and save us the trouble?" Harri added.

"We've been through hundreds of books," Neville said looked at Hagrid a little desperately. Neville was glad to be going home for Yule if only to get away from Hermione's library mania.

"I'm sayin' nothin'," said Hagrid flatly.

"Just have to find out for ourselves then," said Ron, and they left Hagrid looking disgruntled and hurried off to the library.

They had indeed been searching books for Flamel's name ever since Hagrid had let it slip, because how else were they going to find out what someone- "Snape!," Ron insisted with a nodding Neville- was trying to steal. The trouble was, it was very hard to know where to begin, not knowing what Flamel might have done to get himself into a book. He wasn't in _Great Wizards of the Twentieth Century_ or _Notable Magical Names of Our Time_ ; he was missing too from _Important Modern Magical Discoveries_ and _A study of Recent Developments in Wizardry_.

Also sparse was any information about who Dumbledore had trained with and under. While the Professor was featured in many books, Harri couldn't find anything about his early days and who he had trained with. It was rather like Dumbledore had suddenly appeared in 1945 to defeat Grindelwald and then faded into politics. Nothing on his research was readily available at all.

Hermione took out a list of subjects and titles she had decided to search while Ron strode off down a row of books and started pulling them off the shelves at random. Neville was methodically taking books on Herbology off the shelf to study. Harri was beginning to suspect that he was just reading for pleasure to avoid looking at more boring histories. Harri wandered over to the Restricted Section. She had been wondering for a while if Flamel wasn't somewhere in there.

"What are you looking for, girl?"

"Nothing," said Harri.

Madam Pince the librarian brandished a feather duster at her. "You'd better get out, then. Go on- out!"

Wishing she had been a bit quicker at thinking up some story, Harri left the library. The group had agreed they'd better not ask Madam Pince where they could find Flamel. They were sure she'd be able to tell them, but they couldn't risk someone hearing what they were up to.

Harri waited outside in the corridor to see if the other three had found anything, but she wasn't very hopeful. They had been looking for two weeks, after all, but as they only had odd moments between lessons it wasn't surprising they'd found nothing. What they really needed was a nice long search without Madam Pince breathing down their necks. Or a good catalog system like the Muggles had, Harri thought with longing. The only good part of Little Whinging had bee the library after all.

Five minutes later, Ron, Neville, and Hermione joined her, shaking their heads. They went off to lunch.

"You will keep looking while we're away, won't you?" said Hermione. "And send me an owl if you find anything."

"And ask your parents if they know who Flamel is," said Ron. "It'd be safe to ask them."

"Very safe, as they're both dentists," said Hermione with a laugh. Neither Ron or Nevill knew what a dentist was, but Harri laughed.

* * *

Once the holidays had started, Ron and Harri were having too good a time to think much about Flamel. They both had their dormitories to themselves and the common room was far emptier than usual, so they were able to get the good armchairs by the fire. They sat by the hour eating anything they could spear on a roasting fork- bread, English muffins, marshmallows- and plotting ways of getting Malfoy expelled (for Hermione of course), which was fun to talk about even if they wouldn't work.

Harri also learned that Ron knew who his soulmate was, despite his silver covering.

"Her name is Luna," Ron confessed. "She lives in Ottery St. Catchpole, where my family is from. Bit of an odd bird honestly. Known her for ages."

"How did you know that she had said your words," Harri asked, surprised.

"Well Pureblood families catalog these things. There is a spell that you cast on your kid so that a quill will write down the first words anyone says to them. My mum keeps them all out of the way in a shed. But every time one of us gets our wand bonded, she goes and grabs it and tells us to look through and see if we find our match."

"So you know for sure that it's Luna!" Harri exclaimed.

"Well, not for sure yet. She's a year behind us, and she'll get her wand bonded and will check to be sure. But probably. Not many people tell you that you have Wrackspurts floating around your head."

"Do you like her?" Harri asked.

"I don't know," Ron replied. "You girls, you don't make any sense to me at all. And Luna makes the least amount of sense of any girl I've ever met."

"I guess we are a little young for all that," Harri said with a laugh.

"Yeah, we are. There isn't any pressure till after Hogwarts anyways. Most families agree that kids shouldn't put too much stock in it until they're older. Plus, those Slytherin families ignore them half the time and just arrange marriages for their kids."

"So Malfoy wouldn't be allowed to date Hermione even if he wanted to," Harri realized sadly. "Hermione doesn't have a choice even if he is a prat?"

"Probably not. Probably why he was so put out on the train. No one _wants_ an arranged marriage when they have a perfectly good soulmate running around. Magic divined match and all that."

"But you and Luna won't have that problem?" Harri asked.

"Nah, Mum and Dad don't care. And her father is a loon, he won't care either. I'll probably get her a gold covering forever from now once we know each other better. But until then, Mum just wants us to try and be friends."

"That actually sounds nice Ron," Harri told him. "I wish…" and she trailed off. She didn't want to tell Ron what she wished. That her soulmark was normal. That magic hadn't… done what it had done to her. It was terribly unfair. It was nice to know that it didn't seem unfair for Ron though.

Ron's ears went pink as he looked in the fire. "I probably shouldn't have said all that Harri. It's a bit inappropriate."

"No, I appreciate it, Ron. I'd never learned these things if you and Neville weren't catching us up. Hey! Does that mean Neville knows who his soulmate is too?" Harri asked. This quill thing sounded so useful.

"Well, yeah. Did you notice how he Hannah hang out sometimes? Hannah Abbot from Hufflepuff?" Harri hadn't noticed and felt like a poor excuse for a friend.

"He never said anything!"

"Of course he didn't!" Ron's ears were red now, a good indication that it was time to change the subject.

"Teach me about Wizard Chess then Ron," Harri said with a smile and ran up to her dormitory to get the chessmen that Seamus had lent her.

* * *

On December 23rd Harri met Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall in the Entrance Hall at promptly eight. They were going to the Ministry of Magic for Harri's case review. Both Professor's looked grim. They led Harri to a fireplace where they would be 'flooing' to the Ministry. McGonagall went first, showing Harri how she threw the powder into the grate, the fire turned green, and witch stepped in. Harri was nearly amazed enough about that, but then McGonagall called out, "The Ministry of Magic," and she was away.

Harri replicated her with some trepidation and was treated to an uncomfortable sensation of whizzing up a chimney. She was spat out of a large fireplace, and she stumbled to the ground in front of her stern Professor. The woman didn't look ruffled at all. She helped Harri up and spelled the soot off.

Snape arrived, also looked perfectly composed. He looked as bat-like as ever. They were in a large atrium with a fountain in the middle. Witches and Wizards were coming and going very quickly, and pieces of paper were flying around faster than Harri could keep up with.

The Professors led Harri to an elevator, and they got on along with two witches in purple robes that were complaining about faulty cauldron bottoms and potions accidents. Harri could tell Snape was listening in and had to suppress a giggle when he absentmindedly nodded in agreement to one of the witches comments about improved regulation.

They got off the elevator at the second level, Department of Magical Law Enformcnemt. They came into a long corridor with several doors on each side. At the end of the hall were two large oak doors. But they didn't go through the big doors. Instead, they turned in on the third door to the left in the corridor and knocked.

"ENTER," a voice called. Inside was a portly man with thick glasses sitting at a very cluttered desk.

"Ah yes," he said when he saw them. "Good, Good. Hello, Miss. Potter," and here he stared pointedly at her forehead. "I am Jeffery Williamson. I am your caseworker in all this." He extended his hand, and Harri took it. He then vigorously pumped her arm up and down. "Nasty business, I am so sorry. But having reviewed your file from Professor Dumbledore it should be rather straightforward."

"Er… well, that's very good to hear sir," Harri replied uncertainly.

"Yes yes, well all of you come in and sit down," he motioned to Professor Snape and Professor McGonagall. "My dear Minerva, how good to see you again. Not since Elphinstone's passing, I think,"

Professor McGonagall's thin lips got thinner. "No, I think not Jeffery. In any case, to the matter at hand."

"Yes, yes always business with you Minerva," and he winked! Harri was sure that Professor McGonagall's lips would disappear. "Now, I take it you are representing that school as in lieu magical guardian for Miss. Potter. And Severus here is acting the part of the applicant?"

"That is correct," Professor Snape answered silkily.

"Perfect, perfect. Now the committee has already reviewed your memories, Miss. Potter and voted unanimously that you must be removed from the custody of your relatives. That part of the process has already been pushed through. Special Case and all that. None of us can believe that this happened to YOU of all people."

Her of all people. It made her stomach do knots. The wizarding world always seemed to expect a certain image of her. Certainly, not one who had dealt with the Dursleys for ten years

If Jeffery Williamson was expecting an answer, he hadn't paused long enough to get one. "Well, really the only thing we have to confirm today, Miss. Potter, is if you are serious about having Severus Snape as your guardian. It's a bit of an unexpected choice. With your colorful past, Professor." Snape's sneer intensified.

"Professor Snape was a good friend of my mother's," Harri replied softly.

"Yes indeed. Forth in line for custody too. Your parent's will doesn't give us any viable options before Severus either. What with Sirius Black being listed as your godfather and that werewolf being listed as the second option. And the third, well the Longbottoms are in no fit state."

Sirius Black? A werewolf? The Longbottoms!?

Snape looked surprised. "Lily listed me in her will?" he asked.

"Yes, yes. That's why this can go so simply. Makes it easier for all of us in the Department too. Can you imagine, having to accept custody applications for the Girl-Who-Lived!? Every family in Britain would want to apply."

Professor McGonagall took Harri's hand, and she looked down, surprised. Oh, it was transparent. She hadn't noticed her magic doing anything at all. It was overwhelming to think of being 'The-Girl-Who-Lived'. Of all of wizarding Britain thinking of her. Well, these thoughts weren't helping. Harri took a couple of deep meditative breaths.

When she looked back up, Williamson was looking at her with unguarded pity. It took all of her fragile control and concentration to not go invisible right there.

"Well, all looks in order here. You'll just need to sign here Minerva, relinquishing the school as Harriet Potter's magical guardian. And then you'll sign here Severus, taking on full guardianship both physical and magical for her."

They signed, and it was done.

Harri was certain that Ron, Hermione, and Neville would be aghast that she had allowed Severus Snape to become her guardian. Especially since they were certain he was trying to kill her.

Harri was just pleased though. Legally, she could never return to the Dursleys. Snape was even in her parent's will. Maybe not their first choice, but he was there! Everything was really looking up.


	12. Invisus: The Mirror of Erised

On Christmas Eve, Harri went to bed looking forward to the next day for the food and the fun, but not expecting any presents at all. When she woke early in the morning, however, the first thing she saw was a small pile of packages at the foot of her bed.

"Merry Christmas," she said to herself as she scrambled out of bed and pulled on her bathrobe. She excitedly grabbed all her gifts, stuffed them in her bag, and rushed down the stairs of the girl's tower, and then up the stairs to the boys. She burst into Ron's dorm room, who was not awake yet.

"Blimey," he said, as he pulled his covers around himself.

"It's Christmas! I have presents!" Harri exclaimed, throwing her bag onto the bed next to Ron's.

"What did you expect, turnips?" asked Ron, pulling on his own bathrobe and turning to his own pile of gifts. Harri was surprised to see that she had nearly as many gifts as Ron.

Harri picked up the top parcel. It was wrapped in thick brown paper and scrawled across it was To Harri, from Hagrid. Inside was a roughly cut wooden flute. Hagrid had obviously whittled it himself. Harri blew it- it sounded a bit like an owl!

"Oh, how exciting! I've never learned a wind instrument before!" Harri exclaimed. She thought guiltily of the guitar that she had been neglecting the last couple weeks. Well, she had time now, she could practice.

A second parcel was wrapped in a silvery paper. The note attached said 'To Harri, a picture of the past- Moony'.

It was a framed picture. There was a woman with deep auburn red hair in a flowing white dress. A bespectacled man with scruffy dark hair in a tuxedo. Three other men around them. All smiling.

It was a picture of her parent's wedding day. She had never seen anything so wonderful before.

A water droplet hit the glass. Harri had never seen a picture of her parents before. They looked so happy, so alive. In the picture, the couple leaned in to kiss each other as the three men jeered. These must be the three uncles that Lupin had talked about. She wondered which one was Lupin? One was probably a man named Sirius Black. Her godfather. What had happened to these men? What had Snape said, that Lupin was the only one unscathed by the war. He would know who they were and what had happened to them. She would ask.

Setting the picture aside, Harri returned to her gifts.

A book wrapped in brown paper was from Professor Snape. That was strange. She didn't think of Snape as the gift giving type. The note inside read- 'It is customary for guardians to give their charges something for Yule. This should be sufficient.' Well wasn't that… warm.

The book didn't look particularly exciting at first. It was a third edition of the Standard Book of Spells Grade 1. Three editions out of date. Inside the front cover was the name Lily Evans. It was her mother's old charms textbook. Harri gently thumbed through and saw writing in all the margins. Little comments about spell technique. Pronunciation experimentation. Even a couple of small spells written in the margins, ones that Harri hadn't heard of yet. Had her mother invented spells? As a first year?

Another question for Snape then!

Harri next picked up a lumpy parcel. She had no idea who it could be from.

"I think I know," said Ron, turning a bit pink. "My mum. I told her you didn't expect any presents and- oh no," he groaned, "she's made you a Weasley sweater."

Harri had torn open the parcel to find a thick, hand-knitted sweater in emerald green and a large box of homemade fudge.

"Every year she makes us a sweater," said Ron, unwrapping his own, "and mine's always maroon."

"Oh Ron," she sighed. "It's beautiful. Your mother makes one for all of you every year?" That sounded so motherly. So nice. Would her mother have made sweaters or homemade fudge? Harri tried to picture growing up with so much familial warmth.

"This is really so nice of her," said Harri, trying the fudge, which was delicious.

Her next present was a set of books, The Lord of the Rings series from Hermione. Harri had commented that she had wished she owned the series! Leave it to Hermione to be a good listener. Harri had also given Hermione a book from the Flourish and Blotts catalog. _Careers and Apprenticeships: Advice for Young Witches and Wizards_.

This only left one parcel. Harri picked it up and felt it. It was very light. She unwrapped it.

Something fluid and silver gray went slithering to the floor where it lay in gleaming folds. Ron gasped.

"I've heard of those," he said in a hushed voice, dropping the box of Chocolate Frogs he'd gotten from Hermione. "If that's what I think it is- they're really rare and really valuable."

Harri picked the shining, silvery cloth off the floor. It was strange to the touch, like water woven into material.

"It's an invisibility cloak," said Ron, a look of awe on his face. "I'm sure it is- try it on."

Harri draped the cloak around her shoulders and Ron gave a yell. "It is! Look down!" Harri looked down at her feet, but they were gone. She dashed to the mirror. Sure enough, her reflection looked back at her, just her head suspended in midair, her body completely invisible. She pulled the cloak over her head and her reflection vanished completely.

"There's a note!" said Ron suddenly. "A note fell out of it!"

Harri pulled off the cloak and seized the letter. Written in narrow, loopy writing she had never seen before were the following words:

 _Your father left this in my possession before he died. While you need little help in turning invisible, it is time it was returned to you. Use it well._

 _A Very Merry Christmas to you_

There was no signature. Harri stared at the note. Whoever it was had known that she had an invisibility problem of her own. That certainly limited who it could be. It certainly couldn't be on the students. Her father had known them. One of the Professors maybe?

Or did someone at the Ministry who had handled her case send it to her. Someone who knew about her… abuse. That alone made her want to turn invisible on her own.

"I'd give anything for one of these," Ron was saying. "What's the matter?" he asked Harri.

"Nothing," said Harri. She felt very strange. Who had sent the cloak? Was the entire wizarding world gossiping about Harri's abuse from the Dursleys? Did everyone know? It was horrifying.

Before she could say or think anything else, the dormitory door was flung open and Fred and George Weasley bounded in. Harri stuffed the cloak quickly out of sight. She didn't feel like sharing it with anyone else yet.

"Merry Christmas!"

"Hey, look- Harri's got a Weasley sweater too!"

Fred and George were wearing blue sweaters, one with a large yellow F on it, the other a G.

"Harri's is better than ours, though," said Fred, holding up Harri's sweater. "She obviously makes more of an effort if you're not family."

"Why aren't you wearing yours, Ron?" George demanded. "Come on, get it on, they're lovely and warm."

"I hate maroon," Ron moaned halfheartedly as he pulled it over his head.

"You haven't got a letter on yours," George observed. "I suppose she thinks you don't forget your name. But we're not stupid- we know we're called Gred and Forge."

"What's all this noise? Harriet, girls aren't allowed in the boy's dorm"

Percy Weasley stuck his head through the door, looking disapproving. He had clearly gotten halfway through unwrapping his presents as he, too, carried a lumpy sweater over his arm which Fred seized.

"P for prefect! Get it on, Percey, come on, we're all wearing ours, even Harri got one!"

"Who shouldn't be in here!" Percy insisted. "And I- don't-want-" Percy said thickly, as the twins forced the sweater over his head, knocking his glasses askew.

"And you're not sitting with the prefects today, either," said George. "Christmas is a time for family"

They frog-marched Percy from the room, his arms pinned to his side by his sweater.

* * *

Harri had never in all her life had such a Christmas dinner. More food than she knew what to do with, and the most magical Christmas crackers she had ever experienced. She pulled one with Fred that went off like a cannon, and a rear admiral's hat and several live white mice came out. Up at the High Table, Dumbledore now sported a flowered bonnet and was laughing merrily at a joke Professor Flitwick had just read him.

She even got a wizard chess set out of a cracker she pulled with Ron! She could safely return Seamus' set, who always gave her bad advice.

Ron, full of turkey and cake and with nothing mysterious to bother him, went up to his dorm as soon as they returned from the feast. Harri wandered up to her own empty room and looked at her pile of gifts. More from her parents in a single day than she had gotten in her entire lifetime. A picture of them both, her mother's charms textbook, and her father's cloak. What would it be like if they were still alive? If her awful soulmate hadn't murdered them.

Would Lily Potter have knitted Harri a Christmas sweater? Would Harri have siblings at home, siblings she would be visiting for Christmas instead of staying at Hogwarts for the holiday? Would those three smiling men be her close Uncles? Would Professor Snape visit for Christmas dinner, pulling a cracker with her mother?

Well no, the last part was probably far fetched. Professor Snape would find it far too painful to see Lily's glowing happy life without him. His unanswered soulmate, happy with another man.

Harri looked at the cloak. It should still be her fathers. It was a crime for her to have it. It felt like blood money, slipping like water through her hands.

 _Use it wel_ l the note had said.

She had to try it, now. She slipped out of bed and wrapped the cloak around herself. Looking down at her legs, she saw only moonlight and shadows. It was a very funny feeling. Having only disappeared completely once, she was used to seeing the transparent outline of her body.

 _Use it well._

Suddenly, Harri felt wide-awake. The whole of Hogwarts was open to her in this cloak. Excitement flooded through her as she stood there in the dark and silence. She could go anywhere in this, anywhere, and Filch would never know.

She crept out of the dormitory, down the stairs, across the common room, and climbed through the portrait hole.

"Who's there?" squawked the Fat Lady. Harri said nothing. She walked quickly down the corridor.

Where should she go? She stopped, her heart racing, and thought. And then it came to her. The Restricted Section in the library. She'd be able to read as long as she liked, as long as it took to find out who Flamel was. She set off, drawing the invisibility cloak tight around her as she walked.

The library was pitch-black and very eerie. Harri lit a lamp to see her way along the rows of books. The lamp looked as if it was floating along in midair, and even though Harri could feel her arm supporting it, the sight gave her the creeps.

The Restricted Section was right at the back of the library. Stepping carefully over the rope that separated these books fro the rest of the library, she held up her lamp to read the titles.

They didn't tell her much. Their peeling, faded gold letters spelled words in languages Harri couldn't understand. Some had no title at all. One book had a stain on it that looked horribly like blood. The hairs on the back of Harri's neck prickled. Maybe she was imagining it, maybe not, but she thought a fain whispering was coming from the books, as though they knew someone was there who shouldn't be.

Harri could tell they were dark books. Her magic was excited by being so nervous, and she felt it rush around her. Touch each book. They felt wrong and oozing. Harri wondered if that was what _he_ felt like. She would rather not touch any of these books. But she was here, and had to start somewhere. Setting the lamp down carefully on the floor, she found a large black and silver volume. It seemed to whisper to Harri, like an old friend. It's magic reached out for her, caressing her own in a tender sort of way.

Magick Moste Evile, the tile read. At first, she didn't notice. Why did this book seem so familiar? But then the title did register, and she threw it away from her with a thump. It opened on the floor and let out one high, unbroken earsplitting shriek. She stumbled backward and knocked over her lamp. It went out at once.

Panicking, she heard footsteps coming down the corridor outside- stuffing the shrieking book back on the shelf, she ran for it. She passed Filch in the doorway; Filch's pale wild eyes looked straight through her, and Harri slipped under Filch's outstretched arm and streaked off up the corridor, the book's shrieks still ringing in her ears.

She came to a sudden halt in front of a tall suit of armor. She had been so busy getting away from the library, she hadn't paid attention to where she was going. Perhaps because it was dark, but she didn't recognize where she was at all. There was a suit of armor near the kitchens, she knew, but she must be five floors above there.

"You asked me to come directly to you, Professor, if anyone was wandering around at night, and somebody's been in the library- Restricted Section."

Harri felt the blood drain out of her face. Wherever she was, Filch must know a shortcut, because his soft, greasy voice was getting nearer, and to her horror, it was Snape who replied, "The Restricted Section? Well, they can't be far, we'll catch them."

Oh, he couldn't find her. What would he do? Horrible thoughts ran through her mind, of taking her mother's charms book or making her clean cauldrons for the entire summer. Or worst of all, giving her back to the Dursleys. No, he wouldn't do that. She knew he wouldn't. This was an irrational thought.

The thought still wouldn't leave her.

She stood rooted to the spot as Filch and Snape came around the corner ahead. They couldn't see her, of course, but it was a narrow corridor and if they cam much nearer they'd knock right into her- the cloak didn't stop her from being solid.

She backed away as quietly as she could. A door stood ajar to her left. It was her only hope. She squeezed through it, holding her breath, trying not to move it, and to her relief, she managed to get inside the room without their noticing anything. They walked straight past, and Harri leaned against the wall, breathing deeply, listening to their footsteps dying away. That had been close, very close. It was a few seconds before she noticed anything about the room she had hidden in.

It looked like an unused classroom. The dark shapes of desks and chairs were piled against the walls, and there was an upturned wastepaper basket- but propped against the wall facing her was something that didn't look as if it belonged there, something that looked as if someone had just put it there to keep it out of the way.

It was a magnificent mirror, as high as the ceiling, with an ornate gold frame, standing on two clawed feet. There was an inscription carved around the top: _Erised stra ehru oyt ube cafru oyt on woshi._

Was this a magic mirror?

She thought through every book she had ever read that dealt with such things. All of them were muggle examples of course, but it seemed like she had stumbled upon the genuine article. She shouldn't look in, should she? What if something horrible happened?

What did it do?

She stared at the inscription. That wasn't latin. Mirrors… mirrors… MIRRORED.

I show not your face but your heart's Desire.

Her heart's desire? Well… she was fairly certain what she would see. She stepped in front of the mirror and wasn't wrong in the slightest.

There standing before her was the scene she had pictured earlier. Her parents, the three cheerful men from the picture, two young children that must be her brother and sister. In walked Professor Snape, laughing and hugging her mother, and he looked ten years younger.

And there was Harri herself. Confident, no scar on her forehead. Loved completely by her family. The Harri in the mirror turned to look at her and removed the silver covering on her wrist. The words did not read ' _Avada Kedavra_ ' but, ' _I'm sorry about my dad. Dementors really shouldn't count as winning_ '.

Harri's reflection winked at her, before putting the covering back on, and going back to her family. It was the happiest scene in the entire world, and Harri stared at it hungrily.

Her mother's dark red hair glowed in the firelight, just like Harri's. Her eyes were a brilliant shade of emerald green. The tall, thin, black-haired man that was Harri's father wore glasses just like Harri did. His eyes were the same shade of hazel.

She was so close to the mirror now that her nose was nearly touching the reflected scene.

"Mum." she whispered. "Dad."

They looked up from their Christmas table, smiling. Hard angry sobs suddenly wracked her body. It wasn't real. It could never be real. The invisibility cloak fell from her shoulders and she crouched on the ground crying. Her magic was swirling around her, she felt it embrace her, and then lash outwards. It was the most horrible thing in the world, this mirror. It should break, be destroyed, crumble into dust for showing her a world that could never be.

Harri felt a hand on her shoulder.

She looked up, almost hoping to see her mother. But it was Professor Snape. He must have heard her crying and come back.

"You shouldn't be here, Harriet," he said.

"Why isn't it real?" Harri sobbed. "Why can't they be here?"

Snape kneeled down and embraced her. It seemed the most natural thing in the world. "I know," he said, his voice thick. "It shouldn't have been this way, Harri, I know. You should never have lost your parents. I'm so sorry."

He didn't sound like he was apologizing because her parents were dead. It sounded like guilt. But she couldn't bring herself to ask. Snape helped her up, and wouldn't let her look back at the mirror.

"That blasted thing, what was Dumbledore thinking letting it be here?"

"I know it doesn't tell the truth," Harri said with a sniffle. "It's your heart's desire."

"Yes," Snape said eerily. "And don't you think that is a dangerous thing to show anyone? Men have wasted away in front of this mirror."

He was pulling her from the room, her cloak was clutched in her hands. "What do you see, Professor," Harri asked with a hiccup.

"Your mother," he said shortly. What he didn't tell her was that the mirror now featured a young girl with auburn hair, who looked at him with love and joy. A girl who was never touched by abuse or the horrors of Voldemort.

"That mirror will be moved, Harriet. Don't come looking for it again. Put that cloak back on, and get to bed. And if I hear that you've been in the Restricted Section again you will have detention for a week along with those twenty points from Gryffindor," Snape said sharply.

"Twenty points?!" Harri asked in shock.

"Did I not say that yet?" asked Snape icily. "Twenty points from Gryffindor. Back to bed. Now."


	13. Invisus: Nicolas Flamel

Harri didn't say anything to Ron the next day about the mirror. The entire event seemed surreal to Harri by morning, and she didn't want to revisit it with Ron. Not to mention that her adventure ending with Snape hugging her would leave Ron devastated in horror.

Instead, the two spent the remainder of their Christmas Holiday eating good food by the fire, playing wizard chess, and generally taking part in good Christmas cheer. They had more than a few snowball fights with the Twins, and Percy even joined in one.

The only downside to her holiday were the nightmares. Over and over again she dreamed about her parents disappearing in a flash of green light, while a high voice cackled with laughter.

She went so far as to write Remus Lupin, or Moony as he appeared to want to be called, about them. She included the entire mirror story, and even the bit about Snape and how he was her new guardian. While he seemed surprised, Moony confirmed that Lily had always loved Severus Snape. ' _Thick as thieves their first six years at Hogwarts_ ', he had written. On the mirror, he seemed to share her mourning. The only advice he had was to ' _do your best to think about how your parents would want you to live in the now. I_ promise, _they wouldn't want you mourning them. They would want you to be happy and to find_ family _where you can_ '.

Hermione came back the day before term started, and was disappointed that they hadn't found out who Nicolas Flamel was. Harri and Ron had taken a rather lax view of research over Christmas break. Neville, on the other hand, was relieved that their fervor was fading. Harri was certain that she had heard the name somewhere in conjunction with Dumbledore, but she wasn't sure where.

Once term had started, they were back to skimming through books for ten minutes during their breaks. Harri had even less time than the other three because Quidditch practice had started again.

Wood was working the team harder than ever. Even the endless rain that had replaced the snow couldn't dampen his spirits. The Weasleys complained that Wood was becoming a fanatic, but Harri was on Wood's side. If they won their next match, against Hufflepuff, they would overtake Slytherin in the house championship for the first time in seven years. Quite apart from wanting to win, Harri found that she had fewer nightmares when she was tired out from training.

Her dormmates had noticed the nightmares. Lavender and Parvati had been more than understanding when Harri explained to her three dormmates that she had received a picture of her parents for Christmas. Since then she kept seeing them disappear in a flash of green. The girls had all looked horrified, and Lavender and Parvati had taken to making Harri a nice calming tea before bed. And more than once, while waking covered in sweat and shaking, Harri would find Hermione crawling into bed with her. With Hermione there, the nightmares usually were kept at bay.

One particularly wet and muddy practice session, Wood gave the team a bit of news. He'd just gotten very angry with the Weasleys, who kept dive-bombing each other and pretending to fall off their brooms.

"Will yous top messing around!" he yelled. "That's exactly the sort of thing that'll lose us the match! Snape's refereeing this time, and he'll be looking for any excuse to knock points off Gryffindor!"

George Weasley really did fall off his broom at these words. " _Snape's_ refereeing?" he spluttered through a mouthful of mud. "When's he ever refereed a Quidditch match? He's not going to be fair if we might overtake Slytherin."

"But he hates to fly," commented Harri as the rest of the team landed next to George to complain too.

"How do you know that?" Wood asked in surprise.

"He's told me. We were talking about my father, they knew each other in school," Harri replied, trying to keep her memory sessions private.

"Well, I have no idea then!" said Wood, flinging his hands up in the air. "But it's not my fault. We've just got to make sure we play a clean game, so Snape hasn't got an excuse to pick on us."

Which was all very well, thought Harri, but she had another reason for not wanting Snape near her while she was playing Quidditch… Ron, Hermione, and Neville would be freshly fanatic about Snape trying to kill her. She still hadn't let them know that Snape was her guardian, and that he had no real reason to kill Harri. She wasn't sure when she could let them know without it being a horribly awkward experience. Could she keep it a secret forever?

The rest of the team hung back to talk to one another as usual after the end of practice, but Harri headed straight back to the Gryffindor common room, where she found Ron playing chess with Seamus.

"Don't talk to me for a moment, I need to concen-" He caught sight of Harri's nervous face. "What's the matter with you? You look terrible."

"I need to tell you all something. Do you know where Hermione and Neville are?"

"Down in the library looking for more about you-know-who," said Ron.

"Well, I'll wait till they get back." Ron nodded and turned back to his game. Harri was a good spectator and even tried to help Seamus. Ron was very good at chess, and it took two against him to make a fair fight.

About half an hour later, Neville and Hermione appeared. Hermione looked like she had been crying, and Neville was hobbling a little like he'd sprained his ankle.

"What happened?" Harri asked, worried.

"Malfoy," Neville said grimly. That was about all the explanation they needed, and the four hurried off into a corner so they could talk privately.

"It was more of the same really," Hermione said with a sniff. "Then he called me… well, you know… dirty blooded again. And Neville," and Hermione looked at Neville with real admiration, "Neville took a swing at him."

"Of course, Malfoy cursed me with the leg-locker curse before I could hit him. And I fell," Neville said with a game grin. "But he looked really worried about me hitting that face of his. Crabbe and Goyle weren't around. And Hermione cast the counter curse right away, and looked about ready to duel Malfoy right there!"

"Well, he ran away. And like always I just felt so weepy. I hate it. I hate him. I really do," Hermione said in frustration. "He makes me feel like I'm not a very good witch. The way he's always going on about how I don't even deserve my magic!"

Ron pulled out a chocolate frog from his pocket. One of the ones that Hermione had given him for Christmas. "You've got more magic in your little finger than most anyone I know Hermione," he told her, giving it to her.

Hermione looked like she might just cry some more, but stopped herself and gave Ron a hug.

"Thanks, Ron," she said opening the chocolate with delight. She ate the frog and looked at the card. "Oh, Dumbledore. I haven't read his…" and she trailed off.

" _I've found him_!" she whispered. "I've found Flamel!"

"I told you he had something to do with Dumbledore!" Harri exclaimed. "What does it say?"

"Dumbledore is particularly famous for his defeat of the dark wizard Grindelwald in 1945, for the discovery of the twelve uses of dragon's blood, _and his work on alchemy with his partner, Nicolas Flamel_!"

Hermione was so excited that she jumped to her feet. "Stay there!" she said, and she sprinted up the stairs to the girls' dormitories. Neville and Ron barely had time to exchange mystified looks before she was dashing back, an enormous old book in her arms.

"I never thought to look in here!" she whispered excitedly. "I got this out of the library weeks ago for a bit of light reading."

"Light?" said Ron, but Hermione told him to be quiet until she'd looked something up, and started flicking frantically through the pages, muttering to herself. At last, she found what she was looking for.

"I knew it! I knew it!"

"Are we allowed to speak yet?" said Ron grumpily. Hermione ignored him.

"Nicolas Flamel," she said dramatically, "is the only known maker of _the Philosopher's Stone_."

"The ultimate goal of alchemy! Yes of course! Madam Pomphry told me that Dumbledore did his apprenticeship in alchemy under Nicolas Flamel!"

Hermione nodded excitedly and pushed the book toward Ron and Neville, who looked quite confused. They read it.

"See?" said Hermione, when the boys had finished. "The dog must be guarding the Flamel's Stone! I bet he asked Dumbledore to keep it safe for him, because they're friends and he knew someone was after it, that's why he wanted the Stone moved out of Gringotts!"

"A stone that makes gold and stops you from ever dying!" said Neville. "No wonder Snape's after it! Anyone would want it."

Harri cleared her throat nervously. "So… to counter that, One, I don't think it's Snape. Two, he's refereeing the next Quidditch match. And um... three...Oh… he's my new guardian so I'm prettysurehedoesn'twantokillme. Okay, night"

Harri ran up the stairs, leaving the other three gobsmacked.

At breakfast the next morning, Neville and Ron were hissing all sorts of questions at Harri who did her best to answer. They were concerned after all. Neville was especially surprised to learn that his parents were third in line to get custody of Harri.

Hermione was just very quiet and gave Harri a look that said they would _talk_ later.

The next morning in Defense Against the Drak Arts, while copying down different ways of treating werewolf bites, Ron and Neville were still discussing what they'd do with a Philosopher's Stone if they had one. It wasn't until Ron said he'd buy his own Quidditch team that they turned back on Harri and Snape refereeing the match.

"I'm going to play! I may even go ask him why he's doing it." Harri hissed back.

"But then you'll be alone with you!" Ron exclaimed.

"I've been alone with him plenty Ron," Harri said, exasperated.

* * *

Harri had quite a lot to ask Professor Snape actually. So that evening, she gathered up her picture and her mother's charms textbook and went down to Professor Snape's office. Harri knocked on the door halfway down the cold passageway to the dungeons.

"Enter," Snape called. The shadowy walls of his office were lined with shelves of large glass jars, in which floated all manner of revolting things Harri didn't really want to know the name of at the moment. The fireplace was bright though, filled with a warm fire.

"Miss. Potter," he said with a glare, looking up from his grading. "To what do I owe the… pleasure."

Harri closed the door behind her, and turned to face Snape. "Remus Lupin sent me a picture of my parent's wedding day. Do you know who these men are?" she asked.

Snape looked at the picture and grimaced. "That would be Sirius Black, currently in Azkaban, Remus Lupin," he pointed to the tired looking sandy-haired man, "and Peter Pettigrew, deceased."

"Sirius Black is the one Mr. Williamson called my godfather. Why is my godfather in Azkaban? Also, what is Azkaban?"

Snape sneered. "Azkaban is a prison. It is for the worst kinds of criminals. Sirius Black is there because he murdered thirteen people, including Peter Pettigrew."

Harri's eyes widened. Well, she hadn't been expecting that. "How could they all be friends, if he was so dark?" Harri asked.

"Sirius Black was always the worst sort. He tried to murder me when we were in school." He said this so seriously that she knew Snape wasn't exaggerating.

"He tried to MURDER you? Wasn't he expelled then?"

"Of course not," Snape said with a sneer. "Everyone knows that the Black's have more money than God. Even their Gryffindor black sheep wouldn't be expelled. They bribed the school board."

"But he's in prison now," Harri said, looking down at the picture again. It didn't seem right somehow. She felt it in her bones. They were all smiling together, it didn't seem possible for the handsome dark-haired man to be evil, not with his arm slung over her father's shoulders.

"If that's all, Miss. Potter. I don't enjoy revisiting the past."

"Well there is one more thing, Professor…" she trailed off.

"Out with it or be gone," said Snape sharply.

"Everyone thinks you're trying to murder me during the next Quidditch match."

Snape sneered. "Yes, the best way to get rid of you would be through that infernal sport."

Harri didn't bite. "Why are you refereeing? Hermione swears that she saw you putting a curse on my broom during the last match, but I don't think that's true. What's going on?"

Snape eyed her warily. "Someone was putting a curse on your broom. Miss. Granger has a keen eye, I was performing the counter curse. I suppose it was also Miss. Granger who set fire to my robes"

Harri didn't meet his eyes and stayed silent. "Very well, Harriet, if you insist on knowing," Snape said softly. "But if you are demanding honesty from me, I require the same from you. How much do you know about what is happening in this school?"

"Well you know I know about the dog," Harri began.

"And do you know what the dog is guarding?" Snape asked.

"Yes," Harri admitted.

"Then you can see why it is of such value. But do you understand who would want such a thing?" Snape asked her, deadly serious in his tone.

"Well… wouldn't anyone?" Harri asked.

"In a broad sense, yes anyone. But there are not many with the power to break into Gringotts. There are not many that would necessitate the combined work of six Masters of their Arts and a Cerberus to guard an object. Surely you can see, Harriet, that not just anyone is after the Stone. A thing that can give eternal life."

It hit Harri like a ton of bricks. She began to tremble. "Voldemort," she whispered.

"Do not speak the Dark Lord's name, foolish girl," Snape hissed.

"Oh no… oh no no no…" Harri whispered to herself.

"Someone within these halls is working with him to steal the Stone," Snape continued on. "That someone cursed your broomstick at your last Quidditch match. That is why I will be flying around on an infernal broomstick next week."

Harri didn't care about that anymore. So what if Voldemort was trying to kill her. That was just because he didn't know yet… But what if he did? What would happen? Would he still try to kill Harri? Or would he try to take her away from Hogwarts? From all her friends and her newly found home? She didn't even know what a Dark Lord would want with an eleven-year-old. Probably nothing, so he would just kill her. Kill her in revenge of what happened ten years ago.

Oh, was Snape talking to her?

He was leaning over her, gripping both of her shoulders, repeating her name.

"Harriet," he said again. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't breathe! What was happening? Snape muttered a spell. Her breathing regulated. Slow breaths, in.. out. Everything was fine. Only it wasn't. But her magic was under control, it felt like a barrier was around it to prevent it from pushing out. Her breathing was on a constant rhythm.

Snape counted out her breaths for a full minute before he let the spell up. Harri concentrated on keeping the same count, the leash her magic began to fade, and it was swirling in agitation.

"I understand that this could lead to panic, Harriet. But there really is nothing to worry about right now. The Stone is safe. He will not come for you."

"But he will," Harri said at last in a high pitched burst. "He will! Once he knows!"

"He already knows," Snape said in a shocked voice, "why do you think he tried to kill you?"

"How could he already know?!" Harri exclaimed in pure panic. "I refuse to be stupid enough to say something identifiable to him if we ever meet!"

Snape froze.

"What?" His voice was ice.

"How do you know he knows," Harri asked still in a panic. "Has he _told_ people!?"

"What do you think the Dark Lord knows, Harriet," Snape asked slowly.

"This!" Harri did the only thing she could think of to explain. She ripped the silver mark covering off and showed Snape the horrible words.

He blinked once and sunk down to the floor in front of Harri. His hands were on his head. Horror was plain across his face.

"That… that wasn't what you meant. When you said that he already knows…" Harri realized.

"No, Harriet. That wasn't what I meant at all. This, however, this is very unwelcome news."

"He's going to kill me when he finds out," Harri said with certainty.

"No, Harriet. I very much doubt that. This brings new meaning to quite a lot. I see now. No, he won't kill you, but I fear what he will do to you instead."

"What could he do to me?" Harri asked, fearfully.

Professor Snape met her eyes, he looked gaunt. He looked far older than thirty. "He will use you to conquer death once and for all," he said faintly.

"Oh, that's all," Harri replied and promptly fainted.

* * *

She was in a bed. It was very soft. She heard hushed voices around her.

"She needs to know Albus. She needs to train. This puts a new meaning on everything!"

"Now Severus, there is no need to overly burden a young girl. It's too much."

"She has been walking around with those words on her wrist four months. That wasn't a burden?"

"Severus, even I do not know how to react to this news. Though you are correct. It adds perspective to it all."

"All what?" Harri asked softly. She opened her eyes and her vision swam. She groped around for her glasses. Someone handed them to her. She put them on as she sat up, looking around.

She wasn't in the hospital wing or Snape's office anymore. She was in a small room with bed, a desk, and a chest of drawers. There was no window, but several balls of glowing light hanging against the walls. She was in the dungeons still.

By the desk sat Professor Dumbledore, and Professor Snape was standing next to the bed.

"Harri, my dear girl. I am so sorry," Dumbledore began. The pity in his voice grated on her frayed nerves.

"Sorry?" Harri asked with a scoffing laugh. "How can anyone be sorry for this? It's horrible."

"It is horrible as well," Dumbledore agreed. "But I am sorry for you because you are very young. To have such knowledge so young is not a blessing. Only a curse that will take your childhood further from you."

"I've never had a childhood, Professor. This doesn't really change that." Both Snape and Dumbledore grimaced.

"Harriet, there are things you will need to know," Snape began, but Dumbledore interrupted him.

"There are. When you are old enough. I must implore you to put all this from your mind. We here at Hogwarts will do everything we can to keep you safe. When you are ready," and here his twinkling blue eyes looked sharply at Snape, "we will help you prepare for what is to come."

"You mean when he tries to use me," Harri said.

"Yes. But hopefully that will not be until long after you have finished your time here at Hogwarts. For now, dear girl, you are eleven. These things were not meant to weigh on your shoulders yet."

Snape sighed but nodded. "We must ask Harriet that if anything ever seems odd, anything at all, that you come to find me, Professor McGonagall, or Professor Dumbledore."

"Because someone in the castle is helping Voldemort?" Snape flinched, "sorry, You-Know-Who?"

"Harri, if anyone had a right to the name it is you. After all, fear of the name increases fear of the thing itself." Dumbledore gave her a small smile. "And yes, we fear that there is someone in the castle who wishes you ill. But the protections guarding the Stone are very strong. I am confident in them."

Harri nodded. She didn't know if she believed the two men, but for now, that seemed a good enough answer.

"Harri," Dumbledore continued on, looking quite mournful, "I owe you a very real apology. It was I who left you with your aunt and uncle. I foolishly believed that they would love you for your mother's sake. The wards I set on the property would alert me of any stranger entering with ill intent. Foolish as I was, I did not think that the ill intent would come from within."

Harri nodded, and there was that burning behind her eyes. The itch in the back of her throat. The rage she hadn't felt since leaving Privet Drive.

She let it melt away.

"Thank you for letting me know Professor," she said limply.

Dumbledore said nothing more on the matter. Merely stood, and said "It is late. I will be off Severus." And he was gone.

Harri turned to Professor Snape who still stood beside the bed. He was glaring at the door that Professor Dumbledore had just left through. She swung her legs out from under the covers.

"How long was I asleep?" she asked.

"Several hours. I gave you a potion for mental restoration. To prevent another panic attack." Snape looked very tired.

"Where are we? Can I have a note for being out past curfew?"

He shook his head. "These are the quarters off of my office. This room is for your use when we are at Hogwarts during the summer. Stay the night. It's after midnight, it won't do you good running around the castle at this time." He left, looking ready to pass out himself.

There was water on the bedside table already, and a small bathroom off of her room. She found plain pajamas, probably transfigured, on the chair Dumbledore had vacated. Harri got back into bed and fell asleep quickly. She tried to do as Dumbledore had said, to not worry about the things she had learned that night.

Clear your mind, Harri thought, quoting the Occlemency book Snape had given her.

And that was all.

* * *

Despite her best efforts, as the match drew nearer Harri became more and more nervous. Someone was trying to kill her after all, it just wasn't Professor Snape like Ron, Hermoine, and Neville all thought. Harri couldn't bring herself to discuss her visit to Snape's office. Hermione had asked where she had been that night, and Harri made a flimsy excuse about falling asleep in the common room.

Harri knew she wasn't imagining it, but she seemed to be running into Snape wherever she went. At times, she was sure he was following her. Potions lessons were turning into a sort of weekly interrogation. Snape would always make her stay after class to 'evaluate her mental well being' and hand her potions to help calm her or stimulate her appetite when she confessed to skipping meals. Somehow the cold and snarling Potions master was turning into an overbearing mother-hen!

Harri knew, when they wished her good luck outside the locker rooms the next afternoon, that Ron, Hermione, and Neville were wondering whether they would see her alive again. This wasn't what you'd call comforting. Even if Harri was worried about the same thing for a different reason. Harri heard Wood's pep talk as she pulled on her Quidditch robes and picked up her Nimbus Two Thousand.

Ron, Hermione, and Neville, meanwhile, had found a place in the stands. They all were rather grim and had all brought their wands to the match. Little did Harri know that they had all secretly practiced the Leg-Locker Curse. They'd gotten the idea from Malfoy using it on Neville, and were ready to use it on Snape if he showed any sign of wanting to hurt Harri.

"Now don't forget, it's _Locomotor Morits,_ " Hermione muttered as the boys slipped their wands up their sleeves.

"I _know_ ," Ron snapped. "Don't nag."

Back in the locker room, Wood had taken Harri aside. "Don't want to pressure you, Potter, but if we ever need an early capture of the Snitch it's now. Finish the game before Snape can favor Hufflepuff too much."

"The whole school's out there!" said Fred Weasley, peering out of the door. "Even- blimey- Dumbledore's come to watch!"

Harri's heart did a summersault. "Dumbledore ?" she said, dashing to the door to make sure. Fred was right. There was no mistaking that silver beard.

Well, that was some comfort. With Snape in the air and Dumbledore in the stands, no one could really try anything.

Snape looked very angry as the teams marched onto the field- Harri knew this was because he hated flying- but it was also something that Ron noticed.

"I've never seen Snape look so mean," he told Hermione. "Look- they're off. Ouch!"

Someone had poked Ron in the back of the head. It was Malfoy. "Oh, sorry Weasley didn't see you there."

Malfoy grinned broadly at Crabbe and Goyle. "Wonder how long Potter's going to stay on her broom this time? Does anyone want a bet? What about you, Weasley?"

Ron didn't answer; Snape had just awarded Hufflepuff a penalty because George Weasley had hit a Bludger at him. Hermione, who had all her fingers crossed in her lap, was squinting fixedly at Harri, who was circling the game like a hawk, looking for the Snitch.

"You know how I think they choose people for Gryffindor?" said Malfoy loudly a few minutes later, as Snape awarded Hufflepuff another penalty for no reason at all. "It's people who the hat feels sorry for. See, there's Potter, who's got no parents, then there's the Weasleys, who've got no money, Longbottom whose got no brains, and Granger whose got stolen magic."

Neville and Ron went bright red at this. Hermione though looked the angriest. If possible, her hair got even bigger. "I've got more magic in my little finger than you've got in your whole body, Malfoy," she spat at him.

Malfoy cackled. "Is that so you little mudblood bent," he sneered. This was clearly the last straw for Hermione, because she punched Malfoy square in the eye. He fell back howling in pain. Crabbe and Goyle looked confused about whether they should hit Hermione back or not. She brandished her wand at them, and they helped Malfoy up and left.

Ron and Neville stared at her in shock. "Blimey, Hermione," Ron said in awe. But Hermione had turned her attention back to the game.

"Come on Harri!" she screamed, leaping onto her seat to watch as Harri sped straight at Snape- she barely even noticed that Malfoy had left.

Up in the air, Snape turned on his broomstick just in time to see something scarlet shoot past him, missing him by inches- the next second, Harri had pulled out of the dive, her arm raised in triumph, the Snitch clasped in her hand.

The stands erupted; it had to be a record, no one could ever remember the Snitch being caught so quickly.

Harri jumped off her broom, a foot from the ground. She couldn't believe it. She'd done it- the game was over; it had barely lasted five minutes. As Gryffindors came spilling onto the field, she saw Snape land nearby, white-faced and tight-lipped- then Harri felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up into Dumbledore's smiling face.

"Well done," said Dumbledore quietly, so only Harri could hear. "Nice to see you haven't been fixated on all that… been keeping busy… excellent…"

Snape looked relieved to be on the ground again.

* * *

Harri left the locker room alone some time later, to take her Nimbus Two Thousand back to the broom shed. She couldn't ever remember feeling lighter. She'd really done something to be proud of now- no one could say she was just a famous name anymore. The evening air had never smelled so sweet. She walked over the damp grass, reliving the last hour in her head, which was a happy blur: Hermione in the distance, jumping up and down, Ron cheering with Neville.

Even Snape had given her a thin-lipped smile….

Speaking of Snape…

A hooded figure came swiftly down the front steps of the castle. Clearly not wanting to be seen, it walked as fast as possible towards the forbidden forest. Harri knew that prowling walk. Snape, sneaking into the forest while everyone else was at dinner- what as going on?

Harri jumped on her broom and took off. Gliding silently over the castle she saw Snape enter the forest at a run. She followed.

The trees were so thick she couldn't see where Snape had gone. She flew in circles, lower and lower, brushing the top branches of trees until she heard voices. She glided toward them and landed noiselessly in a towering beech tree.

Harri knew Snape wouldn't approve of this, but she had to know what was going on. If Voldemort could use their relationship to somehow live forever, shouldn't she be aware of what was going on? Despite what Dumbledore or Snape might think?

She climbed carefully along one of the branches, holding tight to her broomstick, trying to see through the leaves.

Below, in a shadowy clearing, stood Snape, but he wasn't alone. Quirrell was there. Harri couldn't make out the look on his face, but he was stuttering worse than ever. Harri strained to catch what they were saying.

"... d-don't know why you wanted t-t-to meet here of all p-places, Severus…"

"Oh, I thought we'd keep this private," said Snape, his voice icy. "Students aren't supposed to know about the Stone, after all."

Harri leaned forward. Quirrell was mumbling something. Snape interrupted him.

"Have you figured out how to get past that beast of Hagrid's yet?" How to get past? Why would Snape ask Quirrel that when he knew that Harri knew. He had never asked her.

"B-b-but Severus, I-"

"You don't want me as your enemy, Quirrell," said Snape, taking a step toward him.

"I-I don't know what you-"

"You know perfectly well what I mean."

An owl hooted loudly, and Harri nearly fell out of the tree. She steadied herself in time to hear Snape say, "-your little bit of hocus-pocus. I'm waiting."

"B-but I d-d-don't-"

"Very well," Snape cut in. "We'll have another little chat soon, when you've had time to think things over and decided where your loyalties lie."

He threw his cloak over his head and strode out of the clearing. It was almost dark, but Harri could see Quirrel, standing quite still as though he was petrified.

As she flew back to the castle Harri wondered what all that had meant. Did Snape think that Quirrel was the one in cahoots with Voldemort? Surely not? He was so… not the one Harri would think. Really, Harri could see why her friends thought Snape was the villain. In a storybook, Snape would be the red hearing.

Was Quirrell the actual villain though? A shiver ran down her spine at the thought.

* * *

"Harri, where have you been?" Hermione squeaked.

"We won! You won! We won!" shouted Ron thumping Harri on the back.

"Hermione gave Malfoy a black-eye!" Nevile said, also jumping up and down.

Harri tried to smile at Hermione, but couldn't manage it. "Never mind that now, let's find an empty room, you wait 'til you hear this…"

She made sure Peeves wasn't inside before shutting the door behind them, then she told them what she'd seen and heard.

"... and Snape knows I KNOW how to get past Fluffy, so if he needed that from Quirrell he would have just asked me. So that proves he isn't trying to steal the Stone, and he thinks that Quirrell is!"

"So we were right, it is the Philosopher's Stone, and Quirrell is trying to get past Fluffy- and Snape is trying to intimidate him out of breaking up all the protections that have been put in place?" Neville asked.

"Well no need to worry then," said Ron cheerfully. "If it's Quirrell, the Stone won't be going anywhere."

"I still think it's Snape," Hermione said firmly. "He's trying to get some anti-Dark Arts spell from Quirrell to break through-"

"You think the Stone's only safe as long as Quirrell stands up to Snape?" asked Neville in alarm.

Ron didn't look so blase anymore. "It'll be gone by next Tuesday."


	14. Invisus: The Forbidden Forest

The next few weeks were eventful, mostly because Hagrid had hatched a dragon. It had taken discovery from Malfoy and the help of Ron's brother Charlie, but Harri and Hermione were happily making their way to the tallest tower in the school with a Norweigan Ridgeback in a crate. It was dark, and they were hiding under the invisibility cloak, barely.

"Nearly there!" Harri panted as they reached the corridor beneath the tallest tower.

Then a sudden movement ahead of them made them almost drop the crate. Forgetting they were already invisible, they shrank into the shadows, staring at the dark outlines of two people grappling with each other ten feet away. A lamp flared.

Professor McGonagall, in a tartan bathrobe and a hair net, had Malfoy by the ear.

"Detention!" she shouted. "And twenty points from Slytherin! Wandering around in the middle of the night, how dare you-"

"You don't understand, Professor. Hermione Granger's coming- she's got a dragon!"

"What utter rubbish! How dare you tell such lies! Come on- I shall see Professor Snape about you, Malfoy!"

The steep spiral staircase up to the top of the tower seemed the easiest thing in the world after that. Not until they'd stepped out into the cold night air did they throw off the cloak, glad to be able to breathe properly again. Hermione did a sort of jig.

"Malfoy's got detention! I could sing!

"Don't," Harri advised her.

Chuckling about Malfoy, they waited, Norbert thrashing about in his crate. About ten minutes later, four broomsticks came swooping down out of the darkness.

Charlie's friends were a cheery lot. They showed Harri and Hermione the harness they'd rigged up, so they could suspend Norbert between them. They all helped buckle Norbert safely into it and then Harri and Hermione shook hands with the others and thanked them very much.

At last, Norbert was going… going… gone.

They slipped back down the spiral staircase, their hearts as light as their hands, now that Norbert was off them. No more dragon- Malfoy in detention- what could spoil their happiness?

The answer to that was waiting at the foot of the stairs. As they stepped into the corridor, Filch's face loomed suddenly out of the darkness.

"Well, well, well," he whispered, "we _are_ in trouble."

They'd left the invisibility cloak on top of the tower.

Things couldn't have been worse.

* * *

Filch took them down to Professor McGonagall's study on the first floor, where they sat and waited without saying a word to each other. Hermione was trembling. Excuses, alibis, and wild cover-up stories chased each other through Harri's brain, each more feeble than the last. She couldn't see how they were going to get out of trouble this time. They were cornered. How could they have been so stupid as to forget the cloak? There was no reason on earth that Professor McGonagall would accept for their being out of bed and creeping around the school in the dead of night, let alone being up in the tallest astronomy tower, which was out of bounds except for classes. Add Norbert and the invisibility cloak, and they might as well be packing their bags already.

Had Harri thought things couldn't have been worse? She was wrong. When Professor McGonagall appeared, she was leading Neville. Neville, who was supposed to be taking care of Ron who had a dragon bitten hand.

He didn't say anything, just had a very grim look on his face. "Malfoy," he mouthed to Hermione when he thought McGonagall turned her back. It wasn't. She looked angry enough to breathe fire.

"I would never have believed it of any of you. Mr. Filch says you were up in the astronomy tower. It's one o'clock in the morning. _Explain yourselves_."

It was the first time Hermione had ever failed to answer a teacher's question. She was staring at her slippers, as still as a statue.

"I think I've got a good idea of what's been going on," said Professor McGonagall. "It doesn't take a genius to work it out. You fed Draco Malfoy some cock-and-bull story about a dragon, trying to get him out of bed and into trouble. I've already caught him. I suppose you think it's funny that Longbottom here heard the story and got caught too?"

Neville, of course, knew this wasn't the case, but none of them had the words to correct Professor McGonagall.

"I'm disgusted," she went on. "Four students out of bed in one night! I've not heard of this since _your father_ Miss. Potter! You, Miss. Granger, I thought you had more sense. But it was you who told Draco Malfoy all about this! I thought Gryffindor meant more to the three of you than this! All of three of you will receive detentions- yes, you too, Mr. Longbottom and fifty points will be taken from Gryffindor."

" _Fifty_?" Harri gasped- they would lose the lead, the lead she'd won in the last Quidditch match.

"Fifty points each," said Professor McGonagall, breathing heavily through her long, pointed nose.

"Professor- please-"

"You can't-"

"Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Potter. Now get back to bed, all of you. I've never been more ashamed of Gryffindor students."

A hundred and fifty points lost. That put Gryffindor in last place. In one night, they'd ruined any chance Gryffindor had had for the house cup. Harri felt as though the bottom had dropped out of her stomach. Any affection that her house had held for her over the last few weeks would vanish. How could she ever make up for this?

Harri didn't sleep all night. She could hear Hermione sobbing into her pillow for what felt like an hour, before Harri climbed into bed with Hermione. They didn't sleep, just held each other and let the tears flow. What would happen when the rest of Gryffindor found out what they'd done?

At first, Gryffindors passing the giant hourglasses that recorded the house points the next day thought there'd been a mistake. How could they suddenly have a hundred and fifty points fewer than yesterday? And then the story started to spread: Harri Potter, the famous Harri Potter, their hero of two Quidditch matches, had lost them all those points. Her and a couple of other stupid first years.

From being one of the most popular and admired people at the school, Harri was suddenly the most hated. Even Ravenclaws and Hufflepuffs turned on her because everyone had been longing to see Slytherin lose the house cup. Everywhere Harri went, people pointed and didn't trouble to lower their voices as they insulted her. It was far too much, and Harri went invisible for the first time since that first potions class. She managed to reappear in the bathroom, where she was promptly sick. Ron helped her to the hospital wing, where he finally had his bite looked at.

Professor Snape was there within ten minutes. Looking very displeased with her. Ron was a few beds down, having Madame Pomphry treat him.

Snape scowled at her. "I believe you owe me an explanation."

"I'm not sure what you mean," Harri said, still shaking from magical exhaustion.

"Draco Malfoy was out of bed last night because he was convinced that you and your friends were in possession of a dragon. Now, Ron Weasley is in the hospital wing with a dragon bite. Do you care to explain." Snape all but hissed the last part.

"No. I do not care to explain." Harri said stubbornly.

"And do you care at all for your safety? The safety of your friends or the other students at this school?"

She wanted to cry.

"Dragons are dangerous Harri! Now where is it?"

"Gone," she said softly. "I dealt with it." Understanding passed over Snape's face.

"Harriet, you need to stop dealing with everything by yourself. You need to start coming to adults when things get serious. Dragons are an example of things being serious!" He very angry. Harri could tell because he as speaking very slowly and very softly.

"Well, I had to! People would get in trouble!" Harri exclaimed, trying to keep Hagrid's name out of.

"There are consequences for actions, Harri. Sometimes you cannot protect people from the consequences of their actions."

"Yes I can!" and Harri was nearly in tears.

Snape's face was very hard. "I think it will be good for you then, to face the consequences of your own actions. Harriet, you were wrong. You should have come to me or Professor McGonagall. Someone who could have helped deal with this situation with more competence than a group of first years."

Harri wanted to disappear all over again, but instead, she started to sob. She didn't have the energy, magical or otherwise, to do much else.

* * *

"They'll all forget about this in a few weeks. Fred and George have lost loads of points in all the times they've been here, and people still like them," Ron assured her as they walked out of the Hospital Wing. Ron's hand was an appropriate size again and wrapped in a bandage.

"They've never lost a hundred and fifty points in one go, though, have they?" said Harri miserably.

"Well- no," Ron admitted.

It was a bit late to repair the damage, but Harri swore to herself not to meddle in things that weren't her business from now on. She would listen to Professor Snape. She was done with sneaking around and spying. She felt so ashamed of herself that she went to Wood and offered to resign from the Quidditch team.

" _Resign_?" Wood thundered. "What good'll that do? How are we going to get any points back if we can't win at Quidditch?"

But even Quidditch had lost its fun. The rest of the team wouldn't speak to Harri during practice, and if they had to speak about her, they called her, "the Seeker."

Hermione and Neville were suffering, too. They didn't have as bad a time as Harri, because they weren't as well-known, but nobody would speak to them, either. Hermione had stopped drawing attention to herself in class, keeping her head down and working in silence. This proved a bit counter-intuitive since Hermione was one of Gryffidnor's biggest point winners in class.

Harri was almost glad that the exams weren't far away. All the studying she had to do kept her mind off her misery. She, Ron, Hermione, and Neville kept to themselves, working late into the night, trying to remember the ingredients in complicated potions, learn charms and spells by heart, memorize the dates of magical discoveries and goblin rebellions…

Then, about a week before the exams were due to start, Harri's new resolution not to interfere in anything that didn't concern her was put to an unexpected test. Walking back from the library on her own one afternoon, she heard somebody whimpering from a classroom up ahead. As she drew closer, she heard Quirrells voice.

"No- no- not again, please-"

It sounded as though someone was threatening him. She thought she could make out a hissing sound. Her forehead began to throb.

"All right- all right-" she heard Quirrell sob.

Next second, Quirrell came hurrying out of the classroom straightening his turban. He was pale and looked as though he was about to cry. He strode out of sight; Harri didn't think Quirrell had noticed her. She waited for his footsteps to disappear, then peered into the classroom. It was empty. There was a door that stood ajar at the far end, but Harri hadn't heard anyone leaving the room. Why? How could Quirrell be in there alone, but not alone, at the same time?

Harri went back to the library, where Hermione was testing Ron on Astronomy. Harri told them what she'd heard.

"Snape's done it, then!" said Ron. "If Quirrell's told him how to break his Anti-Dark Force spell-"

"There's still Fluffy, though," said Hermione.

"But we know that can be found in a book at the library," said Harri. "Surely whoever it is would already know how to get past Fluffy."

"Maybe not. It would be hard for a Professor to come in here to research without someone noticing," Neville pointed out.

"I still don't think it's Snape. It didn't sound like him in the classroom. Something else is going on, I just don't understand what," Harri speculated.

The light of adventure was kindling again in Ron and Neville's eyes, but Hermione interjected.

"We should go to Dumbledore. That's what we should have done ages ago. If we try anything ourselves we'll be thrown out for sure."

"Dumbledore already know what we know. I've already told him," Harri told them softly. The looked surprised.

"When did you talk to Dumbledore?" Neville asked.

"A while ago. In Snape's office. They are certain that nothing can get to the stone."

"Then the adults already know everything," Hermione said. "There is nothing more we can do."

"If we just do a bit of poking around-" Ron tried.

"No," said Harri flatly, "we've done enough poking around." She pulled a map of Jupiter toward herself and started to learn the names of its moons. Snape would be so proud, she was sure.

* * *

The following morning, notes were delivered to Harri, Hermione, and Neville at the breakfast table. They were all the same:

 _Your detention will take place at eleven o'clock tonight._

 _Meet Mr. Filch in the entrance hall._

 _Professor M. McGonagall_

Harri had forgotten they still had detention. So at eleven o'clock that night, they said goodbye to Ron in the common room and went down to the entrance hall with Neville. Filch was already there- and so was Malfoy. Harri had also forgotten that Malfoy had gotten a detention, too.

"Follow me," said Filch, lighting a lamp and leading them outside.

"I bet you'll think twice about breaking a school rule again, won't you, eh?" he said, leering at them. "Oh yes… hard work and pain are the best teachers if you ask me… It's just a pity they let the old punishments die out… hang you by your wrists from the ceiling for a few days, I've got the chains still in my office, keep 'em well oiled in case they're ever needed… Right, of we go and don't think of running off, now, it'll be worse for you if you do."

They marched off across the dark grounds. Neville, who had a cold, kept sniffing. Harri wondered what their punishment was going to be. So far she thought it was odd that their punishment for being out late at night was for them to be out again, late at night.

The moon was bright, but clouds scudding across it kept throwing them into darkness. Ahead, Harri could see the lighted windows of Hagrid's hut. Then they head a distant shout.

"Is that you, Filch? Hurry up, I want to get started."

Harri's heart rose; if they were going to be working with Hagrid it wouldn't be so bad. Her relief must have shown on her face, because Filch said, "I suppose you think you'll be enjoying yourself with that oaf? Well, think again, girl- it's into the forest you're going, and I'm much mistaken if you'll all come out in one piece."

At this Neville let out a little groan, and Malfoy stopped dead in his tracks.

"That forest?" he repeated, and he didn't sound quite as cool as usual. "We can't go in there at night- there are all sorts of things in there- werewolves, I heard."

Neville clutched the sleeve of Harri's robes and made a choking noise. Harri herself couldn't quite believe this. They would get detention for going into the Forest. Why on earth was their detention doing something that was normally against school rules?

"That's your problem, isn't it?" said Filch to Malfoy, his voice cracking with glee. "Should've thought of them werewolves before you got in trouble, shouldn't you?"

Hagrid came striding toward them out of the dark, Fang at his heel. He was carrying his large crossbow, and a quiver of arrows hung over his shoulder. Once again, Harri was struck that wizards had never gotten around to firearms.

"Abou' time," he said. "I bin watin' fer half an hour already. All right, Harri, Hermione, Neville?"

"I shouldn't get too friendly to them Hagrid," said Filch coldly, "they're here to be punished, after all."

"That's why yer late, is it?" said Hagrid, frowning at Filch. "Bin lecturin' them eh? 'Snot your place ter do that. Yeh've done yer bit, I'll take over from here."

"I'll be back at dawn," said Filch, "for what's left of them," he added hastily, and turned and started back toward the castle, his lamp bobbing away in the darkness.

Malfoy now turned to Hagrid.

"I'm not going in that forest," he said, and Harri was pleased to hear a note of panic in his voice.

"Oh come on Malfoy," said Hermione with a hit of spite in her voice. "Are you not _wizard_ enough to go in the forest?"

This seemed to hit a cord with Malfoy. He glared at Hermione, and actually was quiet for once. He looked at them all furiously, but then dropped his gaze.

"Right then," said Hagrid, "now listen carefully, 'cause it's dangerous what we're gonna do tonight, an' I don' want no one takin' risks. Follow me over here a moment."

He led them to the very edge of the forest. Holding his lamp up high, he pointed down a narrow, winding earth track that disappeared into the thick black trees. A light breeze lifted their hair as they looked into the forest.

"Look there," said Hagrid, "see that stuff shinin' on the ground? Silvery stuff? That's unicorn blood. There's a unicorn in there bin hurt badly by summat. This is the second time in a week. I found one dead last Wednesday. We're gonna try an' find the poor thing. We might have ter put it out of its misery."

"And what if whatever hurts the unicorn finds us first?" said Malfoy, voicing something that Harri had been thinking.

"There's nothin' that lives in the forest that'll hurt yeh if yer with me or Fang," said Hagrid. Harri wasn't so sure about that. "An' keep ter the path. Right, now we're gonna split into two parties an' follow the trail in different directions. There's blood all over the place, it must've bin staggerin' around since last night at least."

* * *

Harri and Hermione were with Hagrid at first. They walked in the dark forest, listening for the unicorn. So far there had been nothing but blood.

Hagrid had them freeze, he pointed his crossbow forward on the path ahead. They could hear a strange slithering sound, rather like a cloak in the leaves. It passed. Harri felt her skin prick, and her magic felt something… off. Something familiar, but not familiar at the same time.

"I knew it," Hagrid murmured. "There's summat in here that shouldn' be."

They kept going, and came to a clearing. Another sound broke the silence, rather like hooves.

"Who's there?" Hagrid called. "Show yerself- I'm armed!"

And into the clearing came- was it a man, or a horse? To the waist, a man with red hair and beard, but below there was a horse's gleaming chestnut body with a long reddish tail. Harri and Hermione's jaws dropped.

"Oh, it's you, Ronan," said Hagrid in relief. "How are yeh?" He walked forward and shook the centaur's hand.

"Good evening to you, Hagrid," said Ronan. He had a deep sorrowful voice. "Were you going to shoot me?"

"Can't be too careful, Ronan," said Hagrid, patting his crossbow. "There's summat bad loose in the forest. This is Harriet Potter and Hermione Granger, by the way. Students up at the school. An' this is Ronan, you two. He's a centaur."

"We noticed," said Hermione faintly as Ronan fixed Harri with his mythical gaze.

"Ah," he said as he looked at her. "I thought that Mercury was oddly bright in the sky at twilight."

"What?" Harri responded.

"Gemini too, is not usually visible this late in the year," said the centaur, like that explained anything.

"Yeah," said Hagrid, glancing around. "Listen, I'm glad we've run inter yeh Ronan, 'cause there's a unicorn bin hurt- you seen anythin'?"

Ronan didn't answer immediately. He stared unblinkingly upward, then sighed. "Always the innocent are the first victims," he said. "So it has been for ages past, so it is now."

"Yeah, but I was meanin' anythin' unusual closer to home," said Hagrid. "So yeh haven't noticed anythin' strange?"

Yet again, Ronan took a while to answer. At last, he said, "The forest hides many secrets. With twin flames though, the path will be lit."

A movement in the trees behind Ronan made Hagrid raise his bow again, but it was only a second centaur, black-haired and bodied and wilder-looking than Ronan.

"Hullo, Bane," said Hagrid. "All right?"

"Good evening, Hagrid, I hope you are well?"

"Well enough. Look, I"ve jus' bin askin' Ronan, you seen anythin' odd in here lately? There's a unicorn bin injured- would yet know anythin' about it?"

Bane walked over to stand next to Ronan. He fixed Harri with his sharp gaze. "Mercury was bright at twilight," he told her.

"We've heard," said Hagrid grumpily. "Well, if either of you do see anythin', let me know, won't yeh? We'll be off, then."

Harri and Hermione followed him out of the clearing. They chatted about their run-in with the centaurs until Hermione saw red sparks.

"Hagrid! Look! Red sparks, the others are in trouble!"

"You two wait here! Hagrid shouted. "Stay on the path, I'll come back for yeh!"

But the others weren't in trouble. When Hagrid returned, he did so very grumpily. Malfoy had apparently grabbed Neville as a joke, and Nevile had sent up the sparks. Hagrid sent Harri off with Malfoy, looking apologetic. But it was a position Harri was glad to take instead of Hermione.

The walked for nearly half an hour, deeper and deeper into the forest until the path became impossible to follow because the trees were so thick. Harri thought the blood seemed to be getting thicker. There were splashes on the roots of a tree, as though the poor creature had been thrashing around in pain close by. Harri could see a clearing ahead, through the tangled branches of an ancient oak.

"Look-" she murmured, holding out her arm to stop Malfoy. Something bright white was gleaming on the ground. They inched closer.

It was the unicorn all right, and it was dead. Harri had never seen anything so beautiful and sad. Its long slender legs were out at odd angles where it had fallen and its mane was spread pearly-white on the dark leaves.

It was the type of scene where magic seemed to dictate that tears be shed.

Harri had taken one step toward it when a slithering sound made her freeze where she stood. A bush on the edge of the clearing quivered… Then out of the shadows, a hooded figure came crawling across the ground like some stalking beast.

Harri's magic fanned out around her instantly, frazzled at the threatening sight. She could feel the magic of the dead unicorn, and the familiar magic of the hooded figure. Harri, Malfoy, and Fang stood transfixed. The cloaked figure reached the unicorn, lowered its head over the wound in the animal's side, and began to drink its blood.

"AAAAAAAAARGH"

Malfoy let out a terrible scream and bolted- so did Fang. The hooded figure raised its head and looked right at Harri- unicorn blood was dribbling down its front. It got to its feet and came swiftly toward Harri- she couldn't move for fear.

Then a pain like she'd never felt before pierced her head, it was as though her scar was on fire. It cut through the fear, and her magic reacted violently. The hooded figure was pushed back from Harri several meters. Thrown against a tree. But it stood again, and now brandished a wand.

Half blinded, Harri staggered backward. She heard hooves behind her, galloping, and something jumped clean over Harri, charging at the figure.

The pain in Harri's head was so bad she fell to her knees. It took a minute or two to pass. When she looked up, the figure had gone. A centaur was standing over her, not Ronan or Bane; this one looked younger; he had white-blond hair and a palomino body.

"Are you all right?" said the centaur, pulling Harri to her feet.

"Yes- thank you- what was that thing? It's magic… it felt like something familiar. But I would remember meeting something like that!"

The centaur didn't answer. He had astonishingly blue eyes, like pale sapphires. He looked carefully at Harri, his eyes lingering on the scar that stood out, living, on Harri's forehead.

"You are Harriet Potter," he said. "You had better get back to Hagrid. The forest is not safe at this time- especially for you. Can you ride? It will be quicker this way."

"My name is Firenze," he added, as he lowered himself on to his front legs so that Harri could clamber onto his back.

There was suddenly a sound of more galloping form the other side of the clearing. Ronan and Bane came bursting through the trees, their flanks heaving and sweaty.

"Firenze!" Bane thundered. "What are you doing? You have a human on your back! Have you no shame? Are you a common mule?"

"Do you realize who this is?" said Firenze. "This is the Potter girl. The quicker she leaves this forest, the better."

"What have you been telling her?" growled Bane. "Remember, we are sworn not to set ourselves against the heavens. Have we not read what is to come in the movements of the planets."

Ronan pawed the ground nervously. "I'm sure Firenze thought he was acting for the best," he said in his gloomy voice.

Bane kicked his back legs in anger.

"For the best! What is that do with us? Centaurs are concerned with what has been foretold! It is not our business to run around interfering with twin flames!"

Firenze suddenly reared on his hind legs in anger, so that Harri had to grab his shoulders to stay on.

"Do you not see that unicorn?" Firenze bellowed at Bane. "Do you not understand why it was killed? Or have the planets not let you in on that secret? I set myself against what is lurking in this forest, Bane, yes, with humans alongside me if I must."

And Firenze whisked around; with Harri clutching on as best she could, they plunged into the trees, leaving Ronan and Bane behind them.

Harri didn't have a clue what was going on. "Why's Bane so angry?" she asked. "What as that thing you saved me from?"

Firenze slowed to a walk, warned Harri to keep her head bowed in case of low hanging branches, but did not answer Harry's question. They made their way through the trees in silence for a long time. They were passing a particularly dense patch of trees, however, when Firenze suddenly stopped.

"Harriet Potter, do you know what unicorn blood is used for?"

"No," said Harri, startled by the odd question. "We've only used the horn and tail hair in Potions."

"That is because it is a monstrous thing, to slay a unicorn," said Firenze. "Only one who had nothing to lose, and everything to gain, would commit such a crime. The blood of a unicorn will keep you alive, even if you are an inch from death, but at a terrible price. You have slain something pure and defenseless to save yourself, and you will have but a half-life, a cursed life, from the moment the blood touches your lips."

Harri looked fixedly at the back of Firenze's head, which was dappled silver in the moonlight.

"Voldemort," she whispered.

"Indeed," said Firenze. "You and your twin flame are destined to meet again in these coming weeks. Mercury is bright, and Gemini should not be visible as it was at twilight."

"What is a-"

"Harri! Harri, are you alright?" Hermione was running toward them down the path, Hagrid puffing along behind her.

"I'm fine," said Harri, hardly knowing what she was saying. "The unicorn's dead, Hagrid, it's in the clearing back there."

"This is where I leave you," Firenze murmured as Hagrid hurried off to examine the unicorn. "You are safe now."

Harri slid off his back.

"Good luck Harriet Potter," said Firenze. "That planets have been read wrongly before now, even by centaurs. I hope this is one of those times."

He turned and cantered back into the depths of the forest, leaving Harri shivering behind him. She turned to Hermione and hugged her. Hermione's solid arms steadied her and were the closest thing to home that Harri knew.

* * *

Ron had fallen asleep in the dark common room, waiting for them to return. He shouted something about Quidditch fouls when Harri roughly shook him awake. In a matter of seconds, though, he was wide-eyed as Harri began to tell her three friends what had happened in the forest.

Harri couldn't sit down. She paced up and down in front of the fire. She was still shaking. "Voldemort's waiting in the forest… he's just in there waiting for someone to bring him the stone!"

"Stop saying the name!" said Ron in a terrified whisper, while Neville nodded. Harri wasn't listening.

"Firenze saved me, but he shouldn't have done so… Bane was furious… he was talking about interfering with twin flames and the planet."

"Twin flames?" asked Neville. "That's odd."

"You know what a twin flame is?" Harri asked him. Hermione didn't know either apparently, because she was looking intently at Neville.

"Well… yes, but Harri you would know if you were one with… him. I mean… it supersedes everything. It's a bond that's beyond rare. You would know." Neville assured.

Harri went very pale, but she didn't say anything. She would know? Time to talk to Snape again. Everyone in Hogwarts hated her right now, she wasn't about to let Ron, Hermione, and Neville know about… that. They would hate her too.

"Harri," Hermione said, filling the silence. "Everyone says Dumbledore's the only one he was ever afraid of. With Dumbledore around, he won't touch you. Anyway, who says that centaurs are right? It sounds very much like fortune-telling to me." Hermione glared up the girl's dormitory stairs, clearly thinking of Lavender and Parvati.

The sky had turned light before they stopped talking. They went to bed exhausted, their throats sore. But the night's surprises weren't over.

When Harri pulled back her sheets, she found her invisibility cloak folded neatly underneath them. There was a note pinned to it:

 _Just in case_.


	15. Invisus: Through the Trap Door

Harri was pounding on Professor Snape's door by five that evening. She had slept most of the day and had awoken from a nightmare about Voldemort and the chilling slithering sound of his cloak in the leaves.

Snape opened the door and looked furious to see Harri making such a racket. She pushed her way in, and turned to face him as he closed the door.

"Well you told me to come to you if anything happened. So I'm here! I'm coming to you!"

Snape raised an eyebrow at her, but said nothing. "During my detention, we went to the Forbidden Forest. Turns out Voldemort is there and killing Unicorns until he can get the Stone."

She had shocked Snape further into silence. "Well," Harri said, looking at him expectantly.

"Are you sure that it was the Dark Lord," he chocked out.

"Fairly sure. A centaur told me. He also told me that Voldemort was my twin flame, whatever that means."

Snape didn't look surprised at the twin flame bit. Not the way Neville had when she had brought it up. He knew what a twin flame was, he just wasn't felling her. He just nodded. "Well, stay out of the forest then Miss. Potter. I assure you, the Stone is safe. It will not be removed from its hiding place."

"Are you really sure though, because it seems to me like we should be more concerned about Voldemort hanging around in the Forbidden Forest!"

"Do you think I'm not concerned," Snape hissed at her.

"Well, you're not acting like it! None of you are. It's all 'take your exams Harri, don't worry about the Dark Lord hanging around outside the castle waiting to MURDER you."

"Hard as it is to believe, that is exactly what you should be doing."

She gave Snape a mutinous look. "Fine," Harri snapped. "Fine. Just ignore me. Believe the Stone is safe. Do nothing-"

"Five points from Gryffindor, Harriet. Keep your tone civil," he said sharply. His tone wasn't very civil.

"Forget it, I'm leaving," and she ducked past him, opened the door, and slammed it behind her. Adults were just as useless as they always were.

* * *

In years to come, Harri would never quite remember how she managed to get through her exams when she half expected Voldemort to come bursting through the door at any moment. Yet the days crept by, and there could be no doubt that Fluffy was still alive and well behind the locked door.

It was sweltering hot, especially in the large classroom where they did their written papers. They had been given special, new quills for the exams, which had been bewitched with an Anti-Cheating spell.

They had practical exams as well. Professor Flitwick called them one by one into his class to see if they could make a pineapple tap-dance across a desk. Professor McGonagall watched them turn a mouse into a snuffbox- points were given for how pretty the snuffbox was, but taken away if it had whiskers. Snape made them all nervous, breathing down their necks while they tried to remember how to make a Forgetfulness Potion. Harri was certain she had gotten the potion perfect, despite his glares.

Harri did the best she could, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in her forehead, which had been bothering her since her trip to the forest. Parvati and Lavender were concerned for Harri, as she kept being woken up by her old nightmare, except now it was worse because there was a hooded figure dripping blood.

Harri had realized one evening, as she sat with the two girls drinking tea, that they might be able to make sense of what Firenze had said.

"Do either of you know why it would matter that Mercury was bright or Gemini would be visible this time of year?"

Parvati nodded sagely, "Well Mercury is the planet that rules over Gemini's. It's a messenger. Trying to communicate something. But you don't need to worry about Gemini, Harri. You're a Leo."

"Would… would a twin flame effect that?"

"A twin flame?" asked Lavender, looking excited. "Oh Harri, you can't really think that, can you? They're so rare. And never end well."

"What is it exactly?" Harri asked.

"A twin flame is a bond stronger than a simple soulmate," said Parvati. "It's like destiny, but never in a good way. They always end in disaster. Because they're polar opposites. Everything from their magic to their personalities will be different. So they never get along, but magic pulls them together."

"How do you know that it's a twin flame then, instead of just being soulmates who don't get along?" Harri asked.

"Well, there haven't been many twin flames. There is a spell. Sometimes soulmates who don't get along use it. I don't think there has been a twin flame in nearly forever though." Lavender shrugged.

"I really doubt that's what's going on Harri," Parvati tried. "Has someone said your words? Is he a jerk like Malfoy is to Hermione. Because those two will probably just grow up in a few years and get along. Same for you."

Harri shook her head, "Just curious. I read about it in a novel, and didn't understand what it meant."

"Oooooh one of those novels," Lavender said with a giggle. "Harri you should have told us. Those novels always are fun, aren't they?"

Harri wasn't sure what novels Lavender meant but nodded anyway. She'd look into it over the summer. Harri let the topic of twin flames drop, and hoped that she wasn't really one with Voldemort. It could only make things worse.

The nightmares continued though, and no one understood. Maybe it was because they hadn't seen what Harri had in the forest, maybe it was because they didn't have scars burning on their foreheads, or maybe it was because they weren't soulmates with a Dark Lord, but her friends didn't seem as worried about the Stone as Harri. The idea of Voldemort certainly scared them, but he didn't keep visiting them in dreams, and they were so busy with their studying they didn't have time to fret about what anyone might be up to.

Their very last exam was History of Magic. One hour of answering questions about batty old wizards who'd invented self-stirring cauldrons and they'd be free, free for a whole wonderful week until their exam results came out. When the ghost of Professor Binns told them to put down their quills and roll up their parchment, Harri couldn't help cheering with the rest.

"That was far easier than I thought it would be," said Hermione as they joined the crowds flocking out onto the sunny grounds. "I needn't have learned about 1637 Werewolf Code of Conduct or the uprising of Elfric the Eager."

Hermione always liked to go through their exam papers afterward, but Ron said this made him feel ill, so they wandered down to the lake and flopped under a tree. The Weasley twins and Lee Jordan were tickling the tentacles of a giant squid which was basking in the warm shallows.

"No more studying," Ron sighed happily, stretching out on the grass.

"I'm fairly certain I passed every class. I think I even got an O in Herbology," Neville said cheerfully as he splayed out next to Ron.

Harri was rubbing her forehead. "I wish I knew what this means!" she burst out angrily. "My scar keeps hurting- it's happened before but never as often as this..." Harri tried to think of other times. Since seeing Voldemort it was common… at the opening feast when Snape had looked at her… it felt sore in Defense… Quirrel. Snape had been talking to Quirrell during the opening feast. Was Quirrell the reason?

"Go to Madam Pomfrey," Hermione suggested.

"I'm not ill," said Harri. "I think it's a warning… it has to do with Quirrell I think. Quirrell and Voldemort."

Ron flinched, "Do you have to say that name _today_ Harri?"

"Harri, relax, Hermione's right, the Stone's safe as long as Dumbledore's around. Anyway, we've never had any proof that Snape or Quirrell found out how to get past Fluffy. Fluffy nearly ripped Snape's leg off once. He's not going to try it again in a hurry."

Harri nodded, but couldn't shake off the lurking feeling that there was something she'd forgotten. Hagrid would never betray Dumbledore. She knew that. Hagrid would never tell anyone how to get past Fluffy… never… but-

Harri suddenly jumped to her feet.

"Where are you going?" said Ron sleepily.

"I've just thought of something," said Harri. She had turned white, "We've got to go and see Hagrid, now."

"Why?" panted Hermione, hurrying to keep up.

"Don't you think it's a bit odd," said Harri, scrambling up the grassy slope, "that what Hagrid wants more than anything else is a dragon, and a stranger turns up who just happens to have an egg in his pocket? How many people wander around with dragon eggs if it's against wizard law? Lucky they found Hagrid, don't you think? Why didn't I see it before?"

It only took one short conversation with Hagrid to see that Harri was perfectly right. Hagrid had told the hooded stranger how to get past Fluffy. The four of them shot off back to the castle as soon as Hagrid made his accidental confession.

"We've got to go to Dumbledore," said Harri panting. "Hagrid told that stranger how to get past Fluffy, and it was either Quirrell or Voldemort under that cloak- it must've been easy, once he'd got Hagrid drunk. I just hope Dumbledore believes us. Firenze might back us up if Bane doesn't stop him. Where's Dumbledore's office?"

They looked around, as if hoping to see a sign pointing them in the right direction. They had never been told where Dumbledore lived, nor did they know anyone who had been sent to see him.

"We'll just have to-" Harri began, but a voice suddenly rang across the hall.

"What are you four doing inside?"

It was Professor McGonagall, carrying a large pile of books.

"We want to see Professor Dumbledore," said Hermione, rather bravely the other three thought.

"See Professor Dumbledore?" Professor McGonagall repeated as though this was a very fishy thing to want to do. "Why?"

Harri swallowed- now what?

"It's sort of secret," Neville squeaked. Harri wished he hadn't, Professor McGonagall's nostrils flared.

"Professor Dumbledore left ten minutes ago," she said coldly. "He received an urgent owl from the Ministry of Magic and flew off for London."

Harri heard the words with resigned acceptance. Of course, he was gone. That's what adults did. They left when you needed them to protect you. They didn't believe you when you said you were worried. They told you to sit back, calm down, and take your beating. Well no more. Never again.

"Thanks, Professor," Harri said with a bright smile. "We'll just head out then." She turned and walked back outside, the others trailing her confused.

"Harri, we should tell her," Hermione insisted once they were outside again.

"They already know Hermione. I keep telling them. No. Dumbledore is gone, so it's tonight. Voldemort is going after the stone tonight. Here is what we have to do. I'm going through the trapdoor tonight, and I will try to get the stone first."

"You're mad!" said Ron.

"You can't Harri, you'll get killed!" exclaimed Neville.

"You'll be expelled!" Hermione said with a shudder.

"SO WHAT?" Harri shouted. "Don't you understand? If Voldemort gets hold of the Stone, he's back. Haven't you head what he was like when he was trying to take over? Our lives will be over. MY LIFE will be over. He won't leave any of us alone. Hermione, they'll get rid of you completely. You hear how Malfoy talks about your 'dirty blood'. Neville, who is to say he doesn't finish off your parents? Ron, your family is full of 'blood traitors' do you think he'll just forgive you all and welcome you back to the fold? NO. If I get caught before I get to the Stone, fine. It just means that I tried to stop him before he could USE me. Because I won't let him. I'm never going to the Dark Side, he killed my parents!"

She glared at them.

"You're right Harri," said Hermione in a small voice.

"I'll use the invisibility cloak," said Harri. "It's just lucky I got it back."

"But will it cover all four of us?" said Ron.

"All- all four of us?"

"Oh, come off it, you don't think we'd let you go alone?"

"You're our friend, Harri. Friends don't let friends fight the Dark side alone," said Neville with a determined face.

"How do you think you'd get to the Stone without us? I'd better go and look through my books, there might be something useful…"

"But if we get caught, you three will be expelled too."

"Not if I can help it," said Hermione grimly. "Flitwick told me in secret that I got a hundred and twelve percent on his exam. They're not throwing me out after that."

"And anyway," said Neville with a slight smile, "You've got plenty of money Harri. Just bribe the school board like a pureblood would."

Harri laughed, amazed at the friends she had made over the last nine months.

* * *

After only a small run in with Peeves, they were outside the third-floor corridor- and the door was already ajar.

"Well, there you are," said Harri quietly. "He's already got past Fluffy." Seeing the open door somehow seemed to impress upon all four of them what was facing them. Underneath the cloak, Harri turned to the other three.

"If you want to go back, I won't blame you," she said. "You can take the cloak, I won't need it now." Harri was used to being alone. So in a way, it did surprise her to hear her friends say: "You're mad," "Don't be stupid," and "We're coming."

Harri pushed the door open. As the door creaked open, rumbling growls met their ears. All three of the dog's noses sniffed madly in their direction, even though it couldn't see them.

"What's that at its feet?" Hermione whispered.

"Looks like a harp," said Ron. "You-Know-Who must have left it there."

"It must wake up the moment you stop playing," said Harri. "Well, here goes again…."

She put Hagrid's flute to her lips and blew. It was a decent enough tune, Harri had been practicing on it. It was just a simple melody that she had fiddled with. Harri hardly drew breath before the dog's growls ceased and it was slumped to the ground, fast asleep.

"Keep playing," Ron warned Harri as they slipped out of the cloak and crept toward the trapdoor. They could feel the dog's hot, smelly breath as they approached the giant heads.

"I can pull the door open," said Neville peering over the dog's back.

"All right," said Ron, gritting his teeth with nerves. Neville stepped carefully over the dog's legs. He bent, pulled the ring of the trapdoor, which swung op and open.

"What can you see?" Hermione said anxiously.

"Nothing- just black- there's no way of climbing down, we'll just have to drop.

Harri, who as still playing the flute, waved at the others to get their attention and pointed to herself.

"You want to go first? Are you sure?" said Ron.

"I really can't tell how deep this goes," Neville told her.

"I'll take the flute, Harri," and Hermione quickly made the transfer. In the few second's of silence, the dog growled and twitched, but the moment Hermione began to play it fell back into its deep sleep.

Harri climbed over it and looked down through the trapdoor. There was no sign of the bottom. She lowered herself through the hole until she was hanging on by just her fingertips. Then she looked up at Ron and said, "If anything happens to me, don't follow. Go straight to the owlery and send an owl to Dumbledore, right?"

"Right," agreed Ron and Neville.

"See you in a minute, I hope…"

And Harri let go. Cold, damp air rushed past her as she fell down, down, down and-

FLUMP. With a funny, muffled sort of thump, she landed on something soft. She sat up and felt around, her eyes not used to the gloom. If felt as though she was sitting on some sort of plant.

"It's okay!" she called up. "But I think it's a plant of some sort. Neville come quickly so we can figure this out. I don't know what it does, but since it's down here it probably can't be good!"

Neville did jump, quickly followed by Ron and Hermione. There was a loud bark from the dog, but she had already jumped.

"We must be miles under the school," said Hermione.

They looked around and realized what was around them. Neville had already bolted to the other wall, and Hermione managed to free herself from the plat beofre it got a firm grip on her.

"Stop moving!" Hermione demanded. "This is Devil's Snare!"

Before she could give a good lecture about it though, Neville had already whipped out his wand and sent out the bluebell flames that Hermione had taught them all how to cast. In a matter of seconds, Ron and Harri felt it loosen its grip around them, as it cringed away from the light and warmth. They pulled free.

"Oh Neville," said Hermione, "that was such fast thinking! I had just gotten to fire, and I was just thinking we didn't have wood!"

"Yes, that was great Neville!"

Neville looked really surprised at himself. "I've never done anything like that before," he spluttered.

"This way," said Harri, pointing down a stone passageway, which was the only way forward.

All they could hear apart from their footsteps was the gentle drip of water trickling down the walls. The passageway sloped downward, and Harri was reminded of Gringotts. With an unpleasant jolt of heart, she remembered the dragons said to be guarding vaults in the wizard bank. If they met a dragon, a fully-grown dragon- Norbert had been bad enough…

"Can you hear something?" Ron whispered.

Harri listened. A soft rustling and clinking seemed to be coming from up ahead.

"Do you think it's a ghost?" asked Neville.

"I don't know… sounds like wings to me."

"There's light ahead- I can see something moving."

They reached the end of the passageway and saw before them a brilliantly lit chamber, it's ceiling arching high above them. It was full of small, jewel-bright birds, fluttering and tumbling all around the room. On the opposite side of the chamber was a heavy wooden door.

"Do you think they'll attack us if we cross the room?" said Ron.

"Probably," said Harri. "They don't look vicious, but I suppose if they all swooped down at once… well, there's no other choice... I'll run."

She took a deep breath, covered her face with her arms, and sprinted across the room. She expected to feel sharp beaks and claws tearing at her any second, but nothing happened. She reached the door untouched. She pulled the handle and it was locked.

The other three followed her. They tugged and heaved at the door, but it wouldn't budge. Not even against the Alohomora charm.

"Now what?" said Ron.

"Do you think it's a more complex spell? Some doors require blood," Neville suggested.

"These birds… they can't be here just for decoration," said Hermione.

They watched the birds soaring overhead, glittering- glittering?

"They're not birds!" Harri exclaimed. "They're keys! Winged keys- look carefully. So that means…" she looked around the chamber while the other three squinted up at the flock of keys.

"...yes- look! Broomsticks! Neville, you stay here, the three of us will fly. Let us know if you see one that… well, which key is it do you think?" Harri asked.

"I'd say we're looking for a big, old-fashioned one- probably silver, like the handle," Ron said after examining the lock.

They were off. And not for nothing was Harri the youngest seeker in a century. She quickly spotted a likely suspect. It had a bent wing as if had already been caught and stuffed roughly into the keyhole.

Harri had the other two herd the key while she gave chase, and was able to smash it against a wall. All four cheered.

They landed quickly, and Harri ran to the door, the key struggling in her hand. She rammed it into the lock and turned- it worked. The moment the lock had clicked open the key took flight again, looking very battered now that it had been caught twice.

"Ready?" Harri asked the other three, her hand on the door handle. They nodded. She pulled the door open.

The next chamber was so dark they couldn't see anything at all. But as they stepped into it, a light suddenly flooded the room to reveal an astonishing sight.

They were standing on the edge of a huge chessboard, behind the black chessmen, which were all taller than they were and carved from what looked like black stone. Facing the, way across the chamber, were the white pieces. The four shivered slightly, the towering white chessmen had no faces.

"Now what do we do?" Harri whispered.

"It's obvious, isn't it?" said Ron. "We've got to play our way across the room"

Behind the white pieces, they could see another door.

"How?" said Hermione nervously.

"I think," said Ron, "we're going to have to be chessmen."

He walked up to a black knight and put his hand out to touch the knight's horse. At once, the stone sprang to life. The horse pawed the ground and the night turned his helmeted head to look down at Ron.

"Do we- er- have to join you to get across?"

The black knight nodded. Ron turned to the other three.

"This needs thinking about…" he said. "I suppose we've got to take the place of four of the black pieces…"

The three stayed quiet, watching Ron think. Neville looked horrified at the prospect of being in a chess match. Harri wasn't feeling too great about it herself. Wizarding chess was a fair shade more brutal than the muggle version.

"Now don't be offended or anything, but none of you are that good at chess-"

"We're not offended," said Harri quickly. "Just tell us what to do."

"Well, Harri, you take the place of that bishop, Hermione you go next to her instead of that castle. Neville…. You take the king."

"I'm going to be a knight," said Ron.

The chessmen seemed to have been listening, because at these words a knight, a bishop, a castle, and the king turned their backs on the white pieces and walked off the board, leaving four empty squares that the four filled.

"White always plays first in chess," said Ron, peering across the board. "Yes… look…"

A white pawn had moved forward two squares, and the game was on.

It was hard fought, but Ron was brilliant at chess. So when he paused, a glint in his eyes, Harri knew that he had found a way to win.

"Yes," he said as the white queen turned toward him. "It's the only way… I've got to be taken."

"NO!" Harri, Hermione, and Neville shouted.

"That's chess!" snapped Ron. "You've got to make some sacrifices! I take one step forward and the queen will take me- that leaves you free to checkmate the king, Harri!"

"But-"

"Do you want to stop Voldemort or not?" It was the first time Harri had ever head Ron say his name.

"Ron-"

"Look, if you don't hurry up, he'll already have the Stone!"

There was no alternative.

"Ready?" Ron called, his face pale but determined. "Here I go- now, don't hang around once you've won."

He stepped forward, and the white queen pounced. She struck Ron hard across the head with her stone arm, and he crashed to the floor- Hermione screamed but stayed on her square- the white queen dragged Ron to one side. He looked as if he'd been knocked out.

Shaking, Harri moved three spaces to the left. The white king too of his crown and threw it at Harri's feet. They had won. The chessmen parted and bowed, leaving the door ahead clear.

"Stay with Ron, Neville," Harri called, as she and Hermione charged through the door and up the next passageway.

"What if he's-?"

"He'll be alright," said Harri, trying to convince herself. "Neville knows a few healing spells. He'll stop any bleeding. Maybe even start pulling him out. Though… I suppose the only way out is through Fluffy and a broomstick.

They reached another door.

"All right?" Harri whispered.

"Go on,"

Harri pushed the door open.

A disgusting smell filled their nostrils, it was another troll. Knocked out, or maybe dead, already. They rushed past and opened the next door. There was nothing very frightening in here, just a table with seven differently shaped bottles standing on it in a line.

"Snape's," said Harri. "What do we have to do?

They stepped over the threshold, and immediately a fire sprang up behind them in the doorway. It wasn't ordinary fire either; they were trapped. Black flame had shot up in the doorway leading onward as well.

"Look!" Hermione seized a roll of paper lying next to the bottles. It was a riddle. Lucky for Harri, Hermione was with the brightest witch she knew. Hermione sorted out the riddle within moments- identifying poison, wine, and the bottle that would lead on to safety. That only left the one that would take Harri on to meet with Voldemort- her soulmate. There was only enough for one of them.

Harri was deadly aware that she was like a lamb to the slaughter. That this may be a very foolish idea. But she had to stop him. She turned to Hermione, "You drink that, go back and get Neville and Ron. Grab brooms from the key-room, go straight to the owlery, and send an owl to Dumbledore. Then get Snape. He'll come to help me."

"Harri, what if it's Snape behind that door."

"It won't be."

"So you really think it's… him behind the door?" Hermione asked.

"Well- I was lucky once, wasn't I?" said Harri, pointing at her scar. "I might get lucky again."

Hermione's lips trembled, and she flung her arms around Harri.

"You're a great witch, Harriet Potter. I love you, you're my best friend. Come out of this. Please."

"I love you too, Hermione. Really. You're the first person in the whole world I ever loved. Go save our friends," she said, pressing the bottle into Hermione's hand.

"Go save the world," said Hermione, as she drank the potion. She shivered.

"It's not poison?" said Harri anxiously.

"No- but it's like ice."

"Quick, go, before it wears off."

"Good luck- take care-"

"GO!"

Hermione turned and walked straight through the purple fire. Harri took a deep breath and picked up the smallest bottle. She turned to face the black flames.

"Here I come," she said and drained the little bottle.

It was indeed as though ice was flooding her body. She put the bottle down and walked forward; braced herself, saw the black flames licking her body, but couldn't feel them- for a moment she could see nothing but dark fire- then she was on the other side, in the last chamber.

There was indeed someone there- and it wasn't Voldemort. As Harri had expected, it was Quirrell.


	16. Invisus: The Man With Two Faces

"I thought I'd be seeing you," Harri said as cooly as she could.

Quirrell smiled. His face wasn't twitching at all. "And I wondered whether I'd be meeting you here, Potter. Managed to escape Severus, have you?"

"He doesn't know that I'm here," Harri said.

Quirrell laughed, and it wasn't his usual quivering tremble, either, but cold and sharp. "That was a poor idea, Potter. Severus may well have been the only one who could help you. But now here you are, alone. No Snape, no Dumbledore. What a waste of time they spent, trying to keep you alive, Potter. Now that I'm going to kill you tonight."

Quirrell snapped his fingers. Ropes sprang out on thin air and wrapped themselves tightly around Harri.

"You're too nosy to live, Potter. You weren't at the feast on Halloween, and for all I knew you'd seen me coming to look at what was guarding the Stone."

"So you let the troll in."

"Certainly, I have a special gift with trolls- you must have seen what I did to the one in the chamber back there? Unfortunately, while everyone else was running around looking for it, Snape, who already suspected me, went straight to the third floor to head me off- and not only did my troll fail to beat you to death, that three-headed dog didn't even manage to bite Snape's leg off properly. Now, wait quietly, Potter. I need to examine this interesting mirror."

It was only then that Harri realized what was standing behind Quirrell. It was the Mirror of Erised.

"This mirror is the key to finding the Stone," Quirrell murmured, tapping his way around the frame. "Trust Dumbledore to come up with something like this… but he's in London… I"ll be far away by the time he gets back…"

All Harri could think of doing was to keep Quirrell talking and stop him from concentrating on the mirror.

"I saw you and Snape in the forest-" she blurted out.

"Yes," said Quirrell idly, walking around the mirror to look at the back. "He was on to me by that time, trying to find out how far I'd got. He suspected me all along. Tried to frighten me- as if he could, when I had Lord Voldemort on my side…"

A chill ran down Harri's spine. Her wayward magic, which she had limited control over in the best of times, began to spike and flow around the room at the mention of Voldemort's name. Something felt… wrong. Familiar and wrong.

Quirrell came back out from behind the mirror and stared hungrily into it. "I see the Stone… I'm presenting it to my master… but where is it?"

Harri struggled against the ropes binding her, but they didn't give. She had to keep Quirrell from giving his whole attention to the mirror.

"I heard you a few days ago, sobbing- I thought Snape was threatening you again…"

For the first time, a spasm of fear flitted across Quirrell's face. "Sometimes," he said, "I find it hard to follow my master's instructions- he is a great wizard and I am _weak_ -"

"You mean he was there in the classroom with you?" Harri gasped. She had felt it then too, hadn't she? The wrong magic. And in the forest. Was Voldemort here _now_? The urge to be invisible, to run away, had never been so great. But Harri knew she couldn't run. She had to stop them from getting the Stone.

"He is with me wherever I go," confirmed Quirrell quietly. "I met him when I traveled around the world. A foolish young man I was then, full of ridiculous ideas of good and evil. Lord Voldemort showed me how wrong I was. There is no good and evil, there is only power, and those too weak to seek it… Since then I have served him faithfully, although I have let him down many times. He had had to be very hard on me." Quirrell shivered suddenly. "He does not forgive mistakes easily. When I failed to steal the stone from Gringotts, he was most displeased. He punished me… decided he would have to keep a closer watch on me…"

Quirrell's voice trailed away. Harri remembered her trip to Diagon Alley- how could she have been so stupid? Quirrell hadn't worn his turban that day! But she had never seen him without it at Hogwarts. Did that mean that Voldemort… was behind the turban?

Quirrell cursed under his breath. "I don't understand… is the Stone inside the mirror? Should I break it?"

Harri's mind was racing. She knew that the thing she wanted most in the world was to find the stone before Quirrell. So if she looked in the mirror, she would see herself finding it- which meant she would see where it was hidden! But how could she look without Quirrell realized what she was up to?

She tried to edge to the left, to get in front of the glass without Quirrell noticing, but the ropes around her ankles were too tight: she tripped and fell over. Quirrell ignored her. He was still talking to himself.

"What does this mirror do? How does it work? Help me, Master!"

Harri's worst fear was realized when a voice answer. It seemed to come from Quirrell himself. Harri knew with a sickening horror that she was right. Voldemort was in the room, hidden behind the turban on Quirrell's head.

"Use the girl… use the girl…" the voice hissed.

Quirrell rounded on Harri. "Yes- Potter- come here."

He clapped his hands once, and the ropes binding Harri fell off. Harri got slowly to her feet.

"Come here," Quirrell repeated. "Look in the mirror and tell me what you see."

Harri walked toward him. _I must lie_ , she thought. _I must look and lie about what I see, that's all_. But Harri knew there was magic that let someone know you were lying. Snape had used it often enough around her. Surely Voldemort would know….

Quirrell moved close behind her. Harri breathed in the funny smell that seemed to come from Quirrell's turban. And now that she knew Voldemort was back there… well was it possible that it was rotting flesh?

She saw her reflection, pale and scared-looking at first. But a moment later, the reflection smiled at her. It put its hand into its pocket and pulled out a blood-red stone. It winked and put the Stone back in its pocket- and as it did so, Harri felt something heavy drop into her real pocket. Somehow- incredibly- _she'd gotten the Stone_.

"Well?" said Quirrell impatiently. "What do you see?"

Harri screwed up her courage. And knowing that she'd probably be caught out she said, "I see myself shaking hands with Dumbledore. I've won the house cup for Gryffindor."

Quirrell cursed again, and Harri was almost relieved. Quirrell couldn't tell about lies.

"Get out of the way," he said. As Harri moved aside, she felt the Stone against her leg. Dare she make a break for it? But she hadn't walked five paces before a high voice spoke, the voice of Voldemort.

"She lies… she lies…"

"Potter, come back here!" Quirrell shouted. "Tell me the truth! What did you just see?"

Voldemort's high voice spoke again. "Let me speak to her… face-to-face…"

"Master, you are not strong enough!"

"I have strength enough… for this…"

Harri felt as if Devil's Snare was rooting her to the spot. She couldn't move a muscle. Petrified, she wanted to disappear as Quirrell reached up and began to unwrap his turban. She must say nothing. She could not speak to him. He would _know_. She couldn't let him know.

Harri would have screamed, but she couldn't make a sound. There, in the rotting flesh, was Voldemort's face on the back of Quirrell's head. He was chalk white with glaring red eyes and slits for nostrils, like a snake.

"Harriet Potter…" he whispered.

Harri tried to take a step backward but her legs wouldn't move.

"See what I've become?" Voldemort began. "Mere shadow and vapor… I have only form when I can share another's body… but there have always been those willing to let me into their hearts and minds…"

Her magic, which was rioting around her, finally seemed to push her to move. She began to step back, but Voldemort flicked Quirrell's wand and she was immobilized again. She could feel his magic around her. It was… like hers. But not hers.

"We haven't finished our talk Harri… Once I have the Elixer of Life, I will be able to create a body of my own... Now… why don't you give me that Stone in your pocket?"

He knew. How could he know? Snape only knew when she was lying if he was in her mind. She could feel that usually.. Was Voldemort in her mind? Panic engulfed her. Voldemort's spell was the only thing keeping her standing.

She shook her head.

"Don't be a fool," Voldemort snarled. "Better save your own life and join me… or you'll meet the same end as your parents… They died begging for mercy…" She wanted to shout at him that he was wrong, but she mustn't… "Your mudblood mother was worst of all… tried to give me you up in exchange for her life."

"LIAR" Harri shouted.

Voldemort froze. He looked very surprised. Horror was filling Harri, knowing she had broken her one vow in all of this. To not speak to Voldemort.

"Ohhhh… Harriet… you've been keeping a secret…" Voldemort hissed. His eyes were gleaming in pleasure.

"No," Harri said, shaking her head. She took a step back, somehow free of the spell Voldemort had cast.

"And look how your magic absorbs mine…" he added, watching her take another step. "I think I want to see it…" Well, Harri certainly didn't.

"Quirrell, I want to see under her mark covering… Get the girl and the stone… unharmed"

"NO," Harri shouted, and her magic pushed at Quirrell, pushing him back several feet, nearly crashing him into the mirror.

"Harriet… look at you… a little child of abuse… I see Dumbledore prepared his witch well…" Voldemort let out a hissing laugh. "But I tire of this… give me the Stone."

"NEVER!" She sprang off toward the flame door. "SEIZE HER!" Voldemort screamed and the next second, Harri felt Quirrell's hand close on both her wrists. He grappled with the clasp of the cover, and then was ripping it away.

At first touch, needle-sharp pain seared across Harri's scar; her head felt like it was about to split in two; she yelled, struggling with all her might, and to her surprise, Quirrell let go of her. The pain in her head had lessened- she looked around wildly to see where Quirrell had gone and saw him hunched in pain, looking at his fingers- they were blistering before his eyes.

"Is this what you wanted to see," Harri shot at Voldemort, holding up her hand. Her exposed wrist was visible to his ruby eyes, and the words ' _Avada_ _Kedavra_ ' gleamed at him. His face twisted.

"Seize her! SEIZE HER! I will NEED her," he shrieked, and Quirrell lunged, knocking Harri clean off her feet, landing on top of her, both hands around her neck- Harri's scar was almost blinding her with pain, yet she could see Quirrell howling in agony.

"Master, I cannot hold her- my hands- my hands!" And Quirrell, though pinning Harri to the ground with his knees, let go of her neck and stared, bewildered, at his own palms- Harri could see they looked burned, raw, red, and shiny.

"Then bind her, you fool. Use your magic!" Voldemort hissed. Quirrell raised his hand to cast ropes again, but Harri, by instinct, reached up and grabbed Quirrell's face-

"AAAARGH!"

Quirrell rolled off her, his face blistering, and then Harri knew; Quirrell couldn't touch her bare skin, not without suffering terrible pain- her only chance was to keep hold of Quirrell, keep him in enough pain to stop him from casting a curse.

Harri jumped to her feet, caught Quirrell by the arm, and hung on as tight as she could. She pushed every ounce of magic she had into her touch, into burning the man alive. Quirrell screamed and screamed- her head was splitting in pain- she couldn't see, she could only hear the terrible shrieks. She gripped any part of him that she could. His arm, then that seemed to be gone, his face, and then that too somehow lost its way from her hand. The shrieks lessened, the pain began to fade.

Harri was fairly certain that she was losing consciousness. Yet, finally, she could see again. And she was surrounded by ash.

Quirrell was gone.

A shriek went up through the air, and a grey wisp rose up from the ashes around Harri.

"I'll… find you…. Harriet…" it hissed, and the spirit of Voldemort faded away.

Harri thought she heard someone calling her name in the distance, but she couldn't keep her eyes open.

The stone was safe, she would take a rest here before….

* * *

Something gold was glittering just above her. The Snitch! She tried to catch it, but her arms were too heavy.

She blinked. It wasn't the Snitch at all. It was a pair of glasses. How strange.

She blinked again. The smiling face of Albus Dumbledore swam into view above her.

"Good afternoon, Harri," said Dumbledore.

Harri stared at him. Then she remembered: "Sir! The Stone! It was Quirrell! I had to do it, to protect the Stone-"

"Calm yourself, dear girl, you are a little behind the times," said Dumbledore. "I know what you had to do, Harri."

"He knows now. I couldn't stop myself. I spoke, and he knows and-" she was all anxiety.

"Harri please relax, or Madam Pomfrey will have me thrown out."

Harri swallowed and looked around her. She was in the Hospital Wing. A familiar enough sight. Next to her was a table piled high with what looked like half a candy shop.

"Tokens from your friends and admirers," said Dumbledore. "What happened down in the dungeon between you and Professor Quirrell is a complete secret, so naturally, the whole school knows."

"They know that I murdered a teacher?" Harri asked with horror plain across her face.

Dumbledore's twinkling eyes dimmed. "Nothing of the sort Harri. The school knows that you had a confrontation and that you won. Nothing to do with Voldemort or murder."

She nodded… feeling heavy.

"Is the Stone safe at least?"

"I arrived just as you were losing consciousness Harri."

"You got there? You got Hermione's owl?"

"We must have crossed in midair. No sooner had I reached London than it became clear to me that the place I should be was the one I had just left. Professor Snape and I found you in a pile of ash, half-conscious, burning in fever."

"Professor Snape must be furious with me," Harri said, looking down at her covers. There was a string that looked promising to pull at.

"Professor Snape was more worried than I have seen him in many years," Dumbledore said. "We both feared that we were too late."

"It was just luck that I figured out what to do. My touch burned Quirrell. He would have gotten the Stone if it weren't for that."

"Not the Stone, Harri, you! Professor Snape and I feared for your _life_ Harri. As for the Stone, it has been destroyed."

"Destroyed?" said Harri blankly. "But your friend- Nicholas Flamel-"

"Oh, you know about Nicolas?" said Dumbledore sounding delighted. "You did do the thing properly, didn't you. Severus just let me know that you knew about the Stone! Well, Nicolas and I had a little chat, and agreed it's all for the best."

"But that means he and his wife will die, won't they?"

"They have enough Elixir stored to set their affairs in order and then, yes, they will die."

Dumbledore smiled at the look of amazement on Harri's face. "To one as young as you, I"m sure it seems incredible, but to Nicolas and Pernelle, it really is like going to bed after a very very long day. After all, to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

Harri frowned again. "I killed Professor Quirrell. I don't… I don't know how to deal with that Professor," she looked at Dumbledore, tears in her eyes.

"I would argue, Harri, that he was dead as soon as he let Voldemort take control of his body," Dumbledore told her.

Voldemort. The other horror from the chamber. "He knows now. He knows about the words. He seemed elated," Harri told him. "There are other ways he can come back, aren't there. Ways that could use me."

"Yes," Dumbledore said, "Nevertheless, Harri, while you may have only delayed his return to power, it will merely take someone else who is prepared to fight what seems a losing battle next time- why if we delay and delay he may never come back to power. You may yet live a long life without being troubled by Voldemort."

"I don't know if I believe you, Professor," Harri said thinking on the wraith's parting words.

"You have lost your childhood far too soon, Harri."

"I'd like to know the truth, sir. About me and Voldemort"

"I must ask again Harri, that you let this be an answer delayed. Not today, not now. You will know, one day… put it from your mind, for now, Harri. When you are older… I know you hate to hear this… when you are ready, you will know."

Harri could tell there was no point in arguing.

"Do you know why Quirrell couldn't touch me?"

"Your mother died to save you. If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. He didn't realize that love as powerful as your mother's for you leave its own mark. Not a scar, no visible sign… to have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever. It is in your very skin. Quirrell, full of hate, greed, and ambition, sharing his soul with Voldemort, could not touch you for this reason."

Harri was weeping silent tears through Dumbledore's little speech. "I feel like I've mourned my parent's death this year," she said wiping away the tears. "I never got to mourn them before."

"I know that hate has marked your childhood Harri," Dumbledore told her, "But if there is anything that I hope marks your future it is love."

"I have things that used to be theirs now. Professor Snape gave me my mother's charms textbook. And someone gave me my father's invisibility cloak."

"Ah- your father happened to leave it in my possession," he explained, "I thought you might like it. Your father mainly used it for sneaking off to the kitchens to steal food when he was here."

Something Voldemort had told her was nagging at her mind. "Voldemort said that you left me with the Dursleys because they abused me. That you wanted my magic to be like this."

"Ah, yes. I can see why he would think that. It is the way he would have done things, I imagine." Dumbledore was no longer smiling. "I take your childhood very seriously, Harri. I would not wish it on anyone. I feel nothing but shame and guilt that I allowed you to suffer. However, Voldemort is correct in the outcome. Would you like to know what you, Professor Snape, Voldemort, and I all have in common?"

"What?"

"Unusually expanded magical cores from adverse childhoods. He would think… knowing what he knows… that I would want you to be as powerful as possible. And again, he does not understand the cost of such things. Not truly. I would rather you be born a squib Harri, with no magical powers at all, than to have knowingly left you to an abusive home."

He looked painfully sincere. Harri wanted to believe him. She hoped that she would. She just needed time to think, to put this entire adventure into some kind of perspective.

"I have one more question."

"Just one?"

"How did I get the Stone form the mirror?"

"Ah, now, I'm glad you asked me that. It was one of my more brilliant ideas, and between you and me, that's saying something. You see, only one who wanted to find the Stone- find it, but not use it- would be able to get it, otherwise, they'd just see themselves making gold or drinking Elixer of Life. My brain surprises even me sometimes… Now, enough questions. I suggest you make a start on these sweets."

There was a noise from the doorway and Harri looked past Dumbledore. Snape was there. Madam Pomfrey came bustling out of her office. "One visitor at a time Severus!"

Dumbledore stood. "Harri and I have spoken, Severus may visit with his ward," and he left with a wink and smile.

Snape quickly strode over, and sunk into the chair Dumbledore had just vacated.

Madame Pomfrey gave him a glare but returned to her office.

"You dunderheaded idiot," Snape hissed at her as soon as Madam Pomfrey was out of earshot. "Do you realize how foolish you were? Running into danger like that?"

"You weren't listening," Harri said, surprised that Snape was so mad when Dumbledore had been so nice about it all.

"Don't you understand, Harriet! Quirrell was never going to get the Stone. You refused to trust me when I told you that, and you ran headlong into danger. You could have DIED."

He nearly shouted the last part.

Oh.

"You were worried about me."

"Of course, I was worried about you! Do you think I work this hard to keep just any student alive? You run into danger like your life means nothing, Harriet. Is that any way to treat your mother's sacrifice?"

"That isn't fair. Please don't bring her into this," Harri said, still not emotionally recovered from her conversation with the Headmaster.

"Somebody needs to," he hissed at her.

"I'll do better!" Harri exclaimed. "I will! You're right. It was stupid, and now he knows. And I murdered Quirrell, and Ron could have died. I was wrong. I get it!"

Snape put his head in his hands. "Harriet… you were very brave and very foolish. You should not have done what you did. It was not safe. But it was a morally good thing to do. You were… a Gryffindor. I would wager that your mother would have done the exact same thing."

"You think?" Harri asked.

"Don't take that as an endorsement," Snape scowled. "You don't know your punishment yet, but I promise it will be a long long summer of thinking about how to moderate your Gryffindor tendencies."

* * *

Madam Pomfrey was being very strict.

"Just five minutes," Harri pleased.

"Absolutely not,"

"You let Professor Dumbledore in. And Professor Snape."

"Well, of course, that was the headmaster and your guardian. Quite different. You need to rest."

"I am resting, look, lying down and everything. Oh, go on, Madam Pomfrey…"

"Oh, very well," she said. "But five minutes only." And she let Ron, Hermione, and Neville in.

" _Harri_!"

Hermione looked ready to fling her arms around her, but Harri was glad she held herself in as her head was still very sore.

"Oh, Harri, we were sure you were going to- Dumbledore was so worried-"

"Snape was so worried!" Neville added.

"The whole school's talking about it," said Ron. "What _really_ happened?"

Harri couldn't tell them all of it. But even with her edits, it was one of those rare occasions when the mostly true story was even more strange and exciting than the wild rumors. Harri told them as much as she could. Quirrell; the mirror; the stone; and Voldemort. The three of them were a very good audience; they gasped in all the right places, and when Harri told them what was under Quirrell's turban, Hermione screamed out loud.

"So the Stone's gone?" said Ron finally. "Flamel's just going to _die_?"

"That's what I said, but Dumbledore thinks that- what was it?- to the well-organized mind, death is but the next great adventure."

"I always said he was off his rocker," said Ron, looking quite impressed at how crazy his hero was.

"So what happened to you three?" said Harri.

Hermione told most of it with Ron and Neville joining in where they could. Hermione had to keep reminded Ron that he wasn't even conscious for any of it.

"Do you think that he let you do it on purpose? Giving you the cloak and all that?" Hermione asked. Harri had been pondering this. Her overly expanded magical core. Her horrid childhood. Finding the mirror the night she had gotten the cloak. Could it all be a ploy?

"I think he felt that I had the right to face Voldemort," Harri said carefully. "I think… he knew that the confrontation had to happen at some point."

Harri had to refrain from touching her soulmark. They both knew now, her and Voldemort. What that would lead to… well, Harri had no idea.

* * *

After a good night's sleep, Harri felt nearly back to normal.

"I want to go to the feast," she told Madam Pomfrey as she straightened her many candy boxes. "I can, can't I?"

"Professor Dumbledore says you are to be allowed to go," she said sniffily, as though in her opinion Professor Dumbledore didn't realize how risky feasts could be. "And you have another visitor."

"Oh, good," said Harri. "Who is it?"

Hagrid sidled through the door as she spoke. It was his second time visiting Harri in the Hospital Wing. "It's-all-my-ruddy-fault!" he sobbed, his face in his hands. "I told the evil git how ter get past Fluffy! I told him! It was the only thing he didn't know, an' I told him! Yeh could have died! All fer a dragon egg! I'll never drink again! I should be chucked out a' made ter live as a Muggle!"

"I already knew, Hagrid. I found it in a book. He could have figured it out, if he knew where to look. This is Voldemort we're talking about, he'd have found out even if you hadn't told him."

"Yeh could have died!" sobbed Hagird. "An' don' say the name!"

"VOLDEMORT!" Harri bellowed, and Hagrid was so shocked he stopped crying. "I've met him and… well I'm calling him by his name. I can't live my whole life in fear of saying his ruddy name. Have a Chocolate Frog, I've got loads..."

Hagrid wiped his nose on the back of his hand and said, "That reminds me. I've got yeh a present."

It was a handsome leather-covered book. Harri opened it curiously. It was full of wizard photographs. Smiling and waving at him from every page were her mother and father. "Sent owls off ter all yer parents' old school friends, askin' fer photos… know yeh didn't have any… d'yeh like it?" There was even a photo of Snape and her mother, that the Professor had clearly donated.

Harri couldn't speak, but Hagrid understood.

* * *

Harri made her way down to the end-of-year feast alone that night. She had been held up by Madam Pomfrey's fussing about, insisting on giving her one last checkup, so the Great Hall was already full. It was decked in Slytherin colors, and Harri had no reason to think that would change. Until Dumbledore stood to give some last minute house points.

"For a quick understanding of dangerous plants, with a cool and sure-fire solution, I award Neville Longbottom fifty points for Gryffindor." Neville was in shock. The entire table erupted in cheers.

He waited for silence.

"To Mr. Ronald Weasley…" Ron went purple in the face. "... for the best-played game of chess Hogwarts has seen in many years, I award Gryffindor house fifty points." Percy could be heard telling the other prefects, "My brother, you know! Got past McGonagall's giant chess set!"

Once again he waited for things to calm down.

"To Miss. Hermione Granger… for the use of cool logic in the face of fire, I award Gryffindor house fifty points."

Hermione buried her face in her arms; Harri strongly suspected she had burst into tears. Gryffindors up and down the table were beside themselves- they were a hundred and fifty points up.

They were only ten points behind Slytherin now, and everyone in the hall knew what was happening next.

"To Miss. Harri Potter…" said Dumbledore. The room had gone deadly silent. "... for pure nerve and outstanding courage, I award Gryffindor house sixty points."

The din was deafening. Someone standing outside the Great Hall might well have thought some sort of explosion had taken place, so loud was the noise that erupted from the Gryffindor table. Everyone was reaching out and hugging the four friends.

"Which means," Dumbledore called over the storm of applause, for even Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were celebrating the downfall of Slytherin. "We need a little change of decoration."

He clapped his hands. In an instant, the green hangings became scarlet and the silver became gold; the huge Slytherin serpent vanished and a towering Gryffindor lion took its place. Snape looked more than annoyed, and he gave Harri a look that said that rewards for foolish bravery would be discussed later.

But that was later. For now, a feast. It was the best evening of her life… she would never forget it.

* * *

Harri had almost forgotten that the exam results were still to come, but come they did. They all passed with good marks; Hermione, of course, had the best grades of the first years. Neville managed the highest mark in Herbology. Harri, surprisingly, managed the highest mark in Potions.

And suddenly, their wardrobes were empty, their trunks were packed, Neville's toad was found, and Gulliver was perched in Harri's arms as she waved goodbye to her friends as they headed down to the Hogwarts Express.

She wandered down to Snape's quarters, which would be her home for the next few months she supposed, and opened the door without knocking.

Snape was there, but it looked like he was packing up.

"Are we going somewhere?" she asked in surprise, Gulliver leaping from her arms to investigate the area.

"Did you think we would be at Hogwarts all summer?" Snape asked, as he carefully placed empty vials into a kit.

"Well… I don't know. Do you live somewhere else?"

Snape looked up and glared at her. "Of course I do. I have my family home in Cokeworth, Spinner's End. But we aren't going there either."

"Then where?" Harri asked, passing Snape ingredient collection tools that he was motioning for her to hand over.

"I think we'll start in the Congo. We will see from there."

"THE CONGO?"

"It's the summer, Harriet. I have ingredients to collect. You show some… modicum of talent. You will be assisting me."

"You're taking me on vacation to Africa?"

"It's not a vacation," Snape said firmly with a frown.

"It's okay that it's a vacation, Uncle Sev. I've never been on one, this will be fun."

"E-excuse me?" Snape spluttered, looking offended.

"It's summer!" Harri exclaimed, giving Snape her best shit-eating grin. "We're off the clock. No more Professor this or that. That will get old. I think Uncle Sev has a nice ring to it!"

Snape looked like he was going to be ill. "September can't get here soon enough," he muttered as he closed his potions kit with a click.


	17. Memoriae: Fantastic Harri (And Where)

**Book Two: Memoriae**

 **Holding the diary, Harri could feel the magic coming off of it. Magic that felt achingly familiar. She had felt it in the forest and while facing down Quirrel. But surely that wasn't possible.**

 **Surely this didn't have something to do with Vol...**

 **What? What had she been thinking? Harri couldn't remember. She looked down at the diary, T.M Riddle stamped across the front.**

 **Who was that?**

* * *

Not for the first time, an argument had broken out between Harri and Professor Snape over breakfast. They were in Africa still. They were not moving as quickly as Snape wanted them to.

"I don't see why you want to stop in every village we pass through," he sneered unhappily as Harri pointed to her map that updated magically as they traveled. She had purchased it at a travel shop in London while waiting for their international portkey.

"It's not a village! It's a natural formation. The Domes de Fabedougou are runic centers of magic." This explanation was stolen from the guidebook she had also purchased.

Snape gave a long-suffering sigh. It had been like this for nearly six weeks. He had hoped to be out of Africa and into central Asia within a month. So far his quest to collect a plethora of rare potions ingredients had gone belly up.

They had managed well enough in the DRC. The Erumpents he had been searching for had been easy enough to find after two weeks of travel around Salong National Park. Erumpents looked rather like rhinoceros at a distance.

Snape had informed Harri about its thick hide which repelled most charms and curses, so it took a gentle hand to collect horn, tails, and the exploding fluid that was contained in the horn. Harri at first thought it was horribly barbaric that Snape wanted to cut an animal apart. It sounded like Muggle poachers.

"They're magical animals, Harriet. A witch or wizard can discuss it with them, offer something in trade, and promise magical restoration. It just takes getting the beast in a good mood."

When they had found the Erumpents, Harri had watched in amazement as Snape made a careful call that was similar to the grunts the animals let out. They looked at him appraisingly as he approached them, crouched low and arms spread wide as if to show he meant no ill towards them.

The herd snorted and pawed the ground several times, before the large male who seemed to the main bull, lowered his snout towards the ground while making eye contact with Snape. The herd calmed, and Snape slowly approached.

He spoke in a low voice that Harri couldn't hear from several meters back. He presented the peace offering he had made for the Erumpents, caps for their horns that would prevent them from exploding each other during mating season. The Erumpent bull gave out a mighty bellow, and the rest of the herd followed suit. Then to Harri's amazement, their tails literally began to fall off of their own accord.

What followed was several hours of carefully collecting the fluid from the horns. After each extraction, Snape would take a few shavings from the horn. The animals didn't seem to mind at all.

Harri had to stay back through of all of this, but it was fascinating to watch. She had been duly impressed with Snape that night and asked all sorts of questions about the properties of the animals, where he had learned to approach them, and which animal they would be looking for next.

"I am a Master Naturalist, Harriet," he had stated. "It is necessary for a potions master to be adept in Herbology and Zoology."

"Did you do your apprenticeship with New Scamander?" Harri asked with unabashed excitement.

"With Newt? No," Snape had replied in what could almost be called a laugh. "He was long retired by the time I was doing my apprenticeship. He did sit on my board for mastery approval."

Their next stop was to search for a Fwooper. The shells of their eggs were apparently useful in stimulating brain cell regeneration. The Fwooper itself was quite dangerous because its song could drive the listener insane. Harri was personally hoping for a few feathers to give as gifts since Snape had mentioned they made rare and valuable quills.

"Fwooper's aren't allowed to be bred in the UK," Snape explained as they made their way through Nigeria on a Magic Carpet. "They can only be sold once sterilized. Eggs can only be found in this region."

But Harri's attention was quickly stolen away from their quest when she saw the beautiful blue of the Nigerian coastline. She had never been swimming in warm water. She had never run on a pristine sandy beach. Seeing the frank longing in her face, Snape agreed to take a day to explore the inlets and tide pools fifty miles outside of Lagos. One never knew what kind of creatures might be lurking in the tides, he had reasoned

Snape's plan for one day turned into two weeks. She browned in the heat, spending most of her days in a swimsuit and sandals, her auburn hair streaked with blond from salt and sun. While it was hard to picture Snape outside of his flowing black robes, he had fully converted to khaki's and a linen button up (though he resolutely did not tan).

Harri wanted to visit every coastal town in Nigeria. Lagos had a large magical community that practiced a lovely runic magic that was almost like a light show to watch. They weaved magic into their clothing, baskets, and shoes. Harri had begged Snape to let her borrow his runic dictionary so that she could begin to study what they all meant. Sadly, she usually could only understand basic ruins such as 'protection' or 'fortification'. Much of the magic was lost on her.

Snape kept trying to leave and go further inland, where he knew Fwooper nests often were. Harri would just find some new reason each day that they should stay near the coast.

She had never been fishing.

She had never seen a Summer Solstice ritual.

Wouldn't it be nice to go on a plain Muggle tour of the country to see the muggle animals? Ones not in a zoo?

He was surprisingly easy to distract, and with minimal convincing, Harri was experiencing a summer like she never had before.

After two weeks of 'lollygaging', Snape pulled Harri away from Nigeria and north into Benin and then into Burkina Faso. They found several Fwooper nests as they went, and Snape even let Harri help collect the egg shells (wearing earplugs of course).

The bright plumage of the Fwooper was enchanting to look at, and Harri found the bright pink ones the prettiest. She was able to snag several lovely plumes out of a nest along with the broken egg shells. She knew that Lavender and Parvati would love them, and hoped that Hermione might too.

Now, deep in the Dida Forest of Burkina Faso, Snape saw little reason to accommodate Harri's fancies. They needed to get moving, as they only had two weeks of good collecting time left before he needed to be back in England.

"Pllllleeeassee," Harri pestered. "We can do it on the way. We need to buy our portkey at Bobo-Dioulasso anyways, and the formation is basically on the way."

"Fine," Snape said sharply. "You will have an hour. No more. This is it, Harriet, I mean it. No more stops." This was the fifth time he had told Harri that.

Two hours of carpet flying later, and Harri found herself at the top of a spectacular rock formation. "Apparently they're 1.8 billion years old, and have been used as runic centers as early as 200,000 thousand years ago," Harri told Snape, quoting her guidebook again.

"Yes, I can see why they would appeal to our ancient ancestors. You can see the formation has a pattern; a swirl to it," he gestured at the natural pattern of the Domes. "Magic likes flow, and this area, while primitive, does have the benefit of being a conduit."

"And you can see all the old runic markings," Harri exclaimed. "Look, they even have the Runespoor rune here. I didn't think that developed until much later."

"The Runespoor is originally from this county," he explained. "They aren't very accommodating to wizards though. Research is quite limited on how their venom or scales might be used in potions."

"Why don't you just ask them for a sample?" Harri asked absentmindedly, watching the shadows on the rocks and how they seemed to move like snakes.

"Yes of course," Snape grimaced, "I'll just talk to the snake like a ruddy Parslemouth."

"Well, yeah," Harri said, looking up at him. "Can't everyone talk to snakes?"

Snape squinted at her, "Very few wizards can talk to snakes."

"Huh," said Harri feeling much quieter.

"Would you like to share, Harriet?" Snape asked, looking at her intently.

"I sent a Boa Constrictor I met once to Brazil. He was very chatty. I just assumed that wizards could talk to snakes once I learned about magic."

Snape sat down on top of the rock formation, clearly surprised.

"It's not normal?" Harri asked, feeling flustered.

"It is rare, Harriet. There are of course Parslemouths wherever there are snakes. The skill is more common in South America, and even here in Africa compared to Europe. But it is still extremely rare. I have only met one Parslemouth before."

He said the last part so slowly. Like he didn't want to say it at all. She felt uneasy. Like snakes were in her stomach.

"Just… just the one? Was it here in Africa?"

Snape shook his head, looking grim. "It is a Slytherin train, Salazar Slytherin was known for it."

"Oh, another student then?" Harri asked hopefully, well aware that she was grasping. She could tell where this was going.

"Harriet… the Dark Lord was a well known Parlemouth. A trait passed down from Salazar Slytherin."

"Oh…"

* * *

"We're going to find a Runespoor," Snape declared when they were safely on the ground again.

"We are?" Harri asked.

"It's not every day that I have such a useful collecting tool," Snape said with what could almost be construed as glee.

"You want me to talk to snakes?" Harri squeaked.

"You told me that you did it easily enough before. To think we could have such an expansion in brewing," he seemed starry-eyed. "The paper I'd be able to write! The first Grand-Master of the guild before fifty if this works out."

"You just… want me to ask for a sample?" Harri asked, unsure.

"No, Harriet. I want you to ask one if it will come back to England with us and work with us. You'll be assisting in this project. A fitting punishment for galavanting after the Stone."

Harri sighed. She had known a real punishment was somewhere around the corner. Talking to a snake to help Snape with his brewing wasn't too horrible. On the continuum of horrible things Snape was likely to do, this was pretty low.

"If I help you," she began with hesitancy. "Are you going to tell anyone about me being a Parseltongue?"

Snape fixed her with his heavy stare. "I was planning to tell the Headmaster of this most recent development," he answered.

"I wish you wouldn't," Harri told him sullenly. "You tell him things about me so quickly. I…. I don't want everyone to know things about me. You ran off about the Dursleys, you told him about my mark, and now you want to tell him about this. Why does he need to know?"

"The Headmaster is the most powerful wizard I know," Snape told her firmly. "If you are in a fight against the Dark Lord you need Dumbledore on your side, with as much information as possible. He can protect you, Harriet."

"What does Parsletounge have to do with Voldemort," Harri groused.

"It has everything to do with the Dark Lord," Snape snapped. "It is a hereditary trait, Harriet. The Potter's are not related to Slytherin. Lily was not a parseltongue. Where do you think this power came from?"

"You think Voldemort gave me the power to talk to snakes when he tried to kill me?" Harri gasped.

"I do not know," Snape said without meeting her eyes. "But I do know that Dumbledore will need to know this. Anything that connects you and the Dark Lord-"

"I'm not connected to HIM," Harri nearly shouted.

"He needs to know Harri. If you would like to tell himself you are welcome. But Dumbledore needs to be informed. For your safety."

"Fine," she groused, changing the subject. "Where are we going then."

"The forests where the Runespoor is protected are unplottable. They won't be on that map of yours. But there is one about an hour from here by carpet. We'll be there by late afternoon." Snape looked too satisfied, like the cat that had gotten the canary.

Snape was right about the flight not taking very long. They were flying over a lush green forest that was so thick with leaves, moss, and vines that Harri was hard pressed to see the forest floor.

Snape waved his wand and murmured a spell, and a small glowing light emitted from his wand. Harri knew this was a tracking spell, and he had used it several times to find Fwooper nests. It hadn't been useful when hunting the Erumpents since they were spell resistant.

The light got brighter as they made their descent, and they landed in a clearing. Harri was glad they hadn't needed to blast their way into the canopy.

Snape turned to her, "Now Harri, be very careful when talking to this creature. I know it's said that a serpent won't strike a speaker, but that could all be folklore. Runespoor are very venomous. If it looks like it's going to strike, get away from it."

Harri nodded, but she couldn't bring herself to be frightened. She had stopped being afraid of things like snakes and spiders when she was young. Hours in Aunt Petunia's garden, pretending that the snakes were her friends, had taken that fear away. It was a strange realization that the snakes really had been talking to her all those summers. It hadn't just been the imaginings of a very lonely young girl.

Snape directed her East, and they began a careful trek through the forest. Harri could hear hissing. As they walked it began to become clear.

" _Humans! What are humans doing here? They must be wizards_ ,"

" _I never much cared for wizards, always poking their noses in where they don't belong._ "

" _Have you ever wondered what it would be like to live near a Wizard? Where a fresh wind could slide over the scales, and magic flows freely. To just taste it on the tongue._ "

" _No_."

" _Perhaps_ ,"

" _We should get rid of them, they're getting closer. Come on, get closer so we can do something. You two are always just lazing about_."

" _Stop being critical. If we stay still they won't see us, and they'll be on their way_."

" _Actually_ ," Harri hissed, " _I was wondering if I could speak with you three_." The Runespoor stopped its conversation with itself. It was very quiet. Snape was looking at her with a strange kind of awe.

" _If you don't mind that is, I'm sure you have lots of snake things to do. But I've heard many tales of the magnificent Runespoor, the three-headed king of serpents_."

" _Speaker_ ," hissed one of the heads longingly.

" _Don't go near_ ," hissed another. " _I've told you a thousand times that wizards are no good. Don't be foolish going near her,_ "

" _It's a speaker_ ," said the third. " _We are no serpent at all if we do not meet with a speaker who has called to us._ "

The Runespoor came slithering out from the brush. It wasn't as big as Harri knew they could grow. This one was probably four feet long. It had orange and black stripes and bright green eyes. Harri figured that having three heads also indicated that it wasn't a full-grown Runespoor yet. Usually, the right head got bitten off because it was overly critical.

" _Greetings, speaker_ ," said the head on the left.

" _Hello, speaker_!" the middle head hissed. Its tongue flicked out. " _Ohhhh, the magic on you and your companion,_ " it hissed longingly.

" _Speaker_ ," the head on the right greeted shortly.

" _Hello, Runespoor. My name is Harri._ " Her name didn't translate well. It came across as fur or animal hide.

" _What a strange name,_ " hissed the right head in a mocking tone.

" _Please ignore my brother, Furry,_ " the middle head implored. " _What do you wish of this humble serpent._ "

" _My companion is a master of potions. He seeks to know more about the mighty Runespoor and how your venom or scales might affect magic. Being such a strong serpent, and knowing that your eggs are so powerful, we would like your help to discover what magic you make._ "

" _And have you wizards come in and hunt us down if you find out that we are worth something to you,_ " the right head hissed sharply.

" _It is known that wizards cannot come near a Runespoor that does not wish it," Harri replied. "There a reason no Runespoor has ever been a companion to a wizard without its consent._ "

" _Where are you from Furry_?" the middle head asked.

" _A place called England, very far from here. It can get very cold there, but the place you would live would have many mice and rats. And magic in the air so thick you would be able to scent it at all times._ "

The head on the left had remained very silent through all this, considering. Finally, it hissed, " _My brother makes a fair point that it is dangerous for humans to know more of the Runespoor. You already hunt our eggs, what will we do when you hunt our young_?"

Harri turned to Snape, "They're concerned that if they help you it will lead to wizards poaching them for potions ingredients."

Snape nodded thoughtfully, "A valid concern. So offer them something. What does each head want? You need the planner most of all, but if you can get the critic or the dreamer as well…. Offer the critic a cone to protect it from being bitten off."

Harri turned back to the snake. " _We cannot guarantee that the hunters will not come. We will attempt to use any knowledge we gain with your consent. There are protections that can be placed in these forests that none many enter with ill intent towards the Runespoor. To each of you, we are willing to offer a gift of your choice. I cannot say what you, planner and dreamer would like. However, to_ you _critic, I can offer a cone to protect you from your brothers'_."

The other two heads hissed angrily at this, but the third head looked rather pleased. " _A worthy offer,_ " he hissed back.

Really Harri knew that it came down to what the planner wanted. It was the one that controlled the body and decided how it moved. All three heads needed to be at least amiable to the plan, or the right one could strike out against the other two and bite Harri or Snape.

" _Very well,_ " hissed the left head. " _But if we seek to return to our forest, you will bring us. That is the deal. To help a Speaker is the calling of a serpent, magic demands that we help you. However, you will not bind us with magic to this deal. We will be free to return_."

Harri turned to Snape and told him the Runespoor's answer. He looked pleased and nodded his consent to the snake's request.


	18. Memoriae: The Truth: A Terrible Thing

Harriet was sulking.

Severus found it strange to watch because he had never seen the girl sulk before. He had seen her full of anger, full of magic, and full of tears. He had seen her frustrated, amazed, enraptured, and winsome. He had not seen her sulk.

There she was though, sulking on a stool in his potions lab as he had her translate a conversation with the Runespoor.

He found himself reminded of Draco Malfoy whenever he visited Malfoy Manor. Granted, the last time he had visited had been when the boy was eight years old and told he couldn't fly before supper. Severus was startled to realize that he hadn't visited Malfoy manor in nearly four years.

Not that he wanted to spend much time at the manor. Lucious and Narcissa were still perfectly pleasant in polite company, but they had cooled towards Severus considerably over the years. With the Dark Lord gone, and Severus' use as a spy eliminated, the Malfoy family no longer had the obligation to bother with Snape. Their patronage had been quite useful in the early days after the war, but now Snape didn't need their money or their name to open doors. He could open his own doors.

He was a master of Potions, Zoology, Dueling, and the Dark Arts. He was a journeyman of Herbology and Healing. He was the guardian of the Girl-Who-Lived, the Head of Slytherin House, and in possession of cooperative Runespoor. Severus would wager that he was the most accomplished wizard on his age. Not yet thirty-five, and well on his way to being Headmaster after Dumbledore or Minerva, to being the Grand-Master of the Potions Guild, and perhaps even being a father to Lily's daughter. All realities that had seemed impossible a decade ago. So no, he didn't need the Malfoys anymore.

What he did need was a cooperative Harriet, which didn't seem very likely at the moment.

"I don't know why you want to talk to the stupid snake," she muttered. "It just argues with itself all the time. He isn't interesting. He's annoying. I can see why they start biting off heads."

"The Runespoor may know more about itself than we think. It would be foolish to start experimenting before gathering all the data we can about how it lives, breeds, eats, and hunts."

Harriet rolled her eyes. Actually rolled her eyes at him. If school had been in session he would have knocked off at least ten points.

Severus repressed a sneer. "Why are you acting like this?" he demanded.

"Like what," Harriet replied in a petulant tone.

"Like… like…" he was grasping for the right word. "Like a teenaged girl!"

She went very pale and he could feel her erratic magic making an appearance. Over the last year, Harriet had made leaps and bounds at controlling her overly expanded magical core. Severus couldn't remember how long it had taken him to achieve similar results. He had had the benefit of a magical mother who had coached him through meditation. Of Lily's listening ear for a year before Hogwarts. He had not faced the Dark Lord Voldemort or unwittingly killed someone at the age of eleven. It was impressive how much control she had grasped and clawed onto. But it still flared, still made its presence known when she was stressed or upset.

"I'll have you know that I'm not a teenage girl," she said through gritted teeth. "I am a twelve-year-old girl, as of today actually. And no one…" she swallowed… "no one has written or said anything about it."

It was her birthday. Of course, it was. Born as the seventh-month dies was practically ingrained in his head.

"Ah…" was all he could manage. Because Severus did not know how to deal with young girls whose birthday he should have remembered. What did one do for a twelve-year-old on her birthday? Probably not make her talk to a snake that she had grown to dislike for over three hours.

"Exactly," she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. "No one had written all summer actually. I thought I wasn't getting mail because we were abroad, but we've been back for two weeks! And not one stinking letter. I've written all three of them, and it's radio silence."

"That is… strange," Severus offered.

There was that James Potter glare again. "Strange?" she said, her voice reaching a pitch that made him flinch. "I get that no one probably cares about my birthday. I mean, we did for Ron. And I set Neville a gift for his. It was yesterday. But maybe… maybe they don't like me anymore because we aren't together all the time. Maybe they've realized that I almost got them killed, and I'm too dangerous to be around." She looked glassy-eyed and every bit the insecure teenaged girl she claimed she wasn't.

"Friends are overrated…"

"Not helpful."

"... but I'm sure yours have not forgotten you. Mistakes in owl post are rare, but they do happen. We have been aborad, Cokeworth, and at Hogwarts. All unusual places for a young witch during the summer."

"That's because you wizards go around with ridiculous owl mail. Owls! For mail!"

"I suppose you prefer the muggle way of having a wasted job for some poor wizard hand delivering it? And dealing with all the wards around all the houses and places in England and on the continent?"

"What do you mean?"

"There are wards around private residences that prevent someone from just walking up to the front door. A mailman would have a yeoman's work getting keyed into all the different homes in Britain. Some are unplottable and aren't even registered properly. It is easier by far to simply key owls into the wards and not allow them through if they are caring anything harmful to the recipient."

"OH," Harriet said, Her face looked just like Lily's when she had understood something new about the wizarding world. The expression was eerily similar.

"Why did no one explain it?' she asked frustrated. "I've been asking about it for over a year and all anyone does is shrug."

"I believe most of the magical community takes it for granted that common magic is known magic," he replied. "You saw Spinner's End," he continued. "My father's old house didn't use magic. I didn't grow up with it coming out of every corner of my life. As a result, I didn't understand small things for several years. But they come, you figure them out," he tried to say with a reassuring smile.

She gave him an odd look. "You need to practice that. It looks like you're in pain."

His face turned to a glower.

"Thank you though," Harriet continued. "You're right that I will catch up... eventually. Or maybe I'll always be a little muggle," she shrugged. "It's not like all these magic raised wizards can blend into the Muggle World. You should have seen Hagrid in London last summer."

"That is indeed an issue that the Ministry often deals with. The number of muggles we oblivate is staggering."

"Wait," Harri exclaimed. "We just oblivate people? We just mess with their minds without their consent?"

"It is either that or let our entire world be known. It won't go well Harriet. You know as well as I do that Muggles have guns. They have bombs. They have the ability to wipe us out. It is better to stay hidden."

"You sound like a blood-purist!" she accused. There was Lily again, the outrage, the turn of her lips. She was all her mother for a moment.

"It's not about blood Harriet. It is about safety. There is… there is something you should know about me." He didn't want to bring this up, but Servus could tell there was an opening. Harriet would no longer trust him he kept it hidden, didn't explain himself, and she found out some other way. It was best to explain on his own terms, or all that fragile trust he had built would disappear.

"You're a half-blood, you can't be a blood-purist," Harriet said slowly. "It would be like hating yourself and your own heritage."

"I do not hate muggles," Severus told her firmly. "There was a time though, in my misguided youth, when I made a mistake Harriet. A grave mistake. The worst mistake I have ever made in my life. I don't expect you to understand or forgive me for it, but you have the right to know."

Severus closed his eyes. He didn't want to look at her as he told this story. But he had to. He owned Lily, and even Potter that much.

"Your mother and I were great friends for several years. The best of friends. She was my world. I loved her more than the sun. Yet… at the same time… I hated everything. I hated that her soulmate was your father. He tormented me for years. He… He was cruel to me. Looking back that was probably because he was jealous. Jealous of the relationship I shared with his soulmate. But I was too young to understand that at the time."

"Well… the worst day, the day that changed everything. It was after exams and your father and his friends started cursing me. And your mother came to my rescue. It was mortifying to need saving in front of the entire school. I lashed out. I was so angry, Harriet. Angry at her for not being able to return my affections. Angry at myself. Angry at the world. So I lashed out at your mother and I called her a Mudblood."

"She wouldn't speak to me all that summer, or really any of the next school year either. I tried to apologize but she… rightly so really… she didn't want anything to do with me. So I made new friends. The wrong friends."

"I was… I am... powerful Harriet. Much like you. Our cores, once we can control them, they make us stronger than other witches and wizards in this day and age. It was common two hundred years ago. Society has mostly seen the truth, we understand now that abusing children is wrong. That it isn't worth it. So there I was, sixteen and drunk on my own power. Isolated from the woman I loved because of my own foolishness. And I found… him. The Dark Lord."

"Voldemort. You… you joined Voldemort?" Horror was clear on Harriet's face.

Severus nodded solemnly. "Please let me fully explain Harriet. It wasn't… he wasn't the man you described to me down in that chamber. He was so… powerful. His magic was addictive. He was Lucifer in human form. Charming, handsome, and his magic was everywhere. It was addictive to be around. He made you believe that his way was right. And some of his ideas, they weren't as insane as today's Ministry would have you believe."

She opened her mouth in anger, clearly about to protest. "Please let me explain Harriet. Please. I know it sounds mad. I know you think I'm wrong."

She closed her mouth. "There were ideas about blood purity of course. But he argued for integration too. Of researching Muggle-borns and figuring out if they were descendants of squibs. Research into where magic came from. Why there were squibs in pureblood families. He was asking questions that the Ministry has never dared to ask. Questions that honestly need to be addrssed. I agree with you, Harriet, that we don't need to oblivate muggles. We shouldn't allow wizards near them unless they can passably move in their society without being noticed."

"But… there were horrible ideas too. Murder. Raids. Cursing everyone we needed to. Bribing Ministry officials. Intimidating witches and wizards into doing our bidding. No trust in the wizarding community. Everything was falling apart. I just wanted order, Harriet. A safe place to research. A way to move on from your mother."

"But then… I overheard something. I'm not a liberty to say exactly what. I've sworn on my magic to Dumbledore I won't tell you the details. But the reason Voldemort came after your family was me. I overheard something and reported it back to him. He was… enraged. We were all set to find a child. A child born at the end of July. There were only two options."

"Me…. and Neville," Harriet whispered.

"Yes. And when I knew it was you… when I knew it was your mother… I begged him to spare her. I begged him to leave her family alone. To not go near you all. I couldn't stand to think of Lily unhappy. Of her world torn apart. Of her… dead."

"He laughed at me," Severus concluded. "He laughed because he knew who your mother was to me. Said he'd spare her for me…." his face contorted into disgust.

Severus looked up at Harriet's face. She was crying. Wet tears streaming down her cheeks. It was very silent though. He couldn't feel her magic moving at all. It was tense like a bow string.

"My parents died because you told Voldemort some information… information that made him want to kill me?" Harriet asked finally.

"It is the biggest regret of my life Harriet. If I had known it would lead him to Lily I never would have…"

"But it would have led to some other child! And THAT was FINE?"

"Of course it wasn't," he hissed quietly.

Her magic was building around the room in that same taut way. It was not wavering and moving. No jerks or lashing out. It was like the whole room was filling evenly with her magic. It reminded him of over a decade ago. Of a meeting that he had just described to Harriet.

She was enraged.

Severus grasped his wand. The magic was going to do something. It was going to explode or implode. It could only mean disaster.

Only… it wasn't.

Suddenly, Harriet Potter was not in his potions lab. She disappeared with a pop.

She hadn't become invisible, she was quite literally gone. Her magic, all of it, had vanished without a trace. It was like all the air had been sucked out of the room.

He quickly cast a spell to identify where she was on the Hogwarts grounds and grimaced when it showed that she wasn't on the grounds at all.

Impossibly, which shouldn't surprise Severus because Harriet Potter was a walking impossibility, Harriet had used accidental apparition at Hogwarts.

Bugger

* * *

Harri wasn't sure what had just happened.

One moment she had been standing in Snape's lab, the next she was in the woods somewhere. It was a thickly wooded glen, she could hear birds chirping in the distance and squirrels running up and down trees. It didn't feel like the forbidden forest, it felt like a normal non-magical wooded area.

How had she gotten here?

One moment she had been so full of anger. She hadn't felt it in months. It hadn't just been her eyes that had itched. It had been her entire body. Like her entire body had fallen asleep and was buzzing numbly. The rage had been… consuming.

It was because of Snape that her parents were dead.

He had given Voldemort information that had ultimately sent him to her. And Snape regretted it. He regretted it because it had led to the death of her mother. Not because it would have ended in the death of a child under any other circumstances.

She… she had trusted Snape. Maybe trust was a strong word. She had accepted that Snape cared. She had trusted that Snape loved her mother. She had trusted that he would feel obligated to Harri's safety because of the love he had felt for Lily.

She had felt so exposed suddenly. Like a wound rubbed raw. Another adult she had to get away from. And as her body had buzzed with barely suppressed rage Harri had thought of the only adult she knew who might be worth trusting. Not because she had any particular belief in the adult himself, but because she trusted the love he carried for her father.

Remus Lupin.

Then she had appeared in this wood.

Harri looked around desperately, looking for some kind of clue as to where she was. Could this be where Remus Lupin lived? Or had magic dropped her somewhere random. She needed to figure out where to go and what to do.

She felt… absolutely exhausted. Her magic felt depleted, but not as badly as when she turned invisible. Harri didn't feel the need to throw up, her body wasn't shaking. That was something at least.

It was a July summer evening, probably getting near six o'clock. It wouldn't be full dark for another hour or so, but she needed to figure out where she was. Harri looked around a little more desperately and could make out a light a little bit ahead.

Harri began to walk towards it. The branches were very thick, and the underbrush thicker. It was a struggle to hike even a few meters towards the light. Harri certainly wasn't dressed for the woods, wearing gym shorts and an undershirt. But after a few minutes of struggling, Harri got close enough to the light to see that it was a little cabin. There were no roads around the little house. No obvious way that someone could get to it except through magical means.

As Harri entered into the clearing the cabin was situated on, she noticed something else. There were large claw marks on the trees all around the cabin. Slashes low and high, and as Harri examined a few more trees, she saw that the marks extended all around the clearing. As if marking a territory.

Harri had learned enough from Quirrel and her zoology books to know that she wasn't at just any cabin. A werewolf lived in this cabin. And with a shudder, Harri realized that darkness was falling fast.

* * *

Some quick notes- no Harri didn't break through the fully powered wards of Hogwarts. That will be explained next chapter. I'm not trying to set up a Super!Harri fic, just a Powerful!Harri who lacks a lot of control. I'm also starting to change a few things in relation to Voldemort himself. I think the ideals that he espoused could use a lot of editing and expanding. I don't want to go full 'dead dove' here (because eugenics are bad kids) but there will probably be views explored and expanded on that I don't personally agree with that the characters of this work will advocate for. Please keep in mind that this is a work of fiction and is not an attempt at real-world commentary.


	19. Memoriae: Remus Lupin

This was a conundrum, to say the least.

Harri desperately tried to remember which phase the moon was in, to no avail. Was it a full moon? She didn't think so. Much of potion making involved harvesting ingredients by the light of a full moon. But… it still might be a full moon. She wasn't willing to bet her life that it wasn't.

All the same, it wasn't full night yet. It was the beginnings of dusk. If it was a full moon, would the werewolf inside be able to spirit her away to safety before the hour struck? Werewolves were men first, after all. Potentially a very kind and helpful person was inside that cabin. Potentially, they were a monster no matter what phase of the moon.

Harri was so tired. Her magic, which under normal circumstances would be rioting around madly, was depleted and dormant. She wasn't going to magic herself somewhere new. She had no idea where she was. No idea where the nearest town was located. There was only the cabin ahead and a ticking clock.

With much trepidation, Harri knocked on the door.

And waited.

She could hear someone inside moving around. Could hear them coming closer to the door. Then… nothing. They didn't open the door.

Harri swallowed her fear and spoke. "I'm so sorry to disturb. But I'm lost and I don't know where I am."

The door opened almost at once.

A very confused man stood before Harri. He wore a very shabby robe, had light brown hair flecked with gray, and he looked very tired. Despite the gray in his hair, he couldn't be older than his mid-thirties. His face, while clearly aged from the picture she had of him, was recognizable at once.

"Remus Lupin," Harri said with relief.

He still looked very confused. But recognition filtered slowly across his face, and then he looked as if he were seeing a ghost. "Harriet Potter," he said at last.

"Yes, oh good it's you! I don't know how I got here, but somehow I am. I was having an argument with Snape and I just ended up here. Oh thank goodness, I thought it would be a bad werewolf!" Relief was flooding through her, her adrenalin plummeted. It was safe after all.

He frowned.

"There is no such thing as a good werewolf, Harriet."

"Of course there is!" Harri exclaimed, feeling desperately tired and almost manic. "You're practically my family. Of course you're a good werewolf. Now, if it isn't the full moon, would it be possible for me to lie down?" Her eyes felt like cement blocks, she was struggling to keep them open or even to form sentences.

Harri couldn't remember what his answer was, but before she knew what was happening she was laying down on something soft and closed her eyes.

What had she been worried about? She really couldn't remember.

* * *

Remus Lupin stared down at the young girl currently sleeping in his bed.

Her deep auburn hair was the exact shade that had been Lily's. Her eyes were mirrors of James. Her voice even was reminiscent of her father, a different pitch, but similar tone.

He had heard the knock on the door and had assumed it was the Ministry. He was a known werewolf in certain circles, but he had managed to stay off the Registry. Remus had been staying in Yorkshire longer than he rightly should. Someone had noticed, he thought with resigned grim.

He had stood by the door, relishing what would probably be his last moment of anonymity, when he had heard the voice of a very young girl.

What was a girl doing at his cabin?

He had thrown open the door to see a bedraggled looking youth wearing clothing more appropriate for a night inside than one in the middle of the wilderness.

Then she had said his name with relief. Remus would have sworn that there wasn't a soul who could show up at his doorstep with anything short of horror. But he looked closer, and he had known her.

Now Harriet was here, and he didn't know what to do. The moon was thankfully not the problem. It was a new moon, and the wolf inside him was blessedly silent. He doubted that the wolf would want to hurt Harriet in any case. She was pack, the only part of his pack that was left. The werewolf side of him that existed even in the light of day would relish being near her.

No, the issue was that he didn't know who to get in contact with. He was aware that Severus Snape was her guardian. Harriet had written that Lily had named Severus in her will. While he had never liked Snape, he knew all about his post wartime record which had led to the capture of many Death Eaters. The spy that had helped finish the war.

He should contact Severus Snape that his ward was here. Something Harriet had said made him pause. He hadn't understood much of what Harriet had communicated. Sleep had muffled her voice and slurred her words, but he was certain that she had described arguing with Severus.

Remus Lupin was a journeyman of two trades. Zoology under his father and Defensive Magic under Alastor Moody. He had dreamed of following in his father's footsteps, hunting down boggarts and malevolent spirits. But that wasn't to be. Between war and his own biology, Remus Lupin was a knowledgable wizard full of potential who would never reach that potential. So he knew magical exhaustion when he saw it.

There weren't many ways that Harriet Potter could have appeared at his doorstep. Just outside his ward line if he were to guess. Accidental apparition did happen, but it was very rare. Harriet had told him about her magical core, had explained without really explaining, that she had experienced a horrible childhood. An overly expanded magical core would explain apparition, but what had triggered the outburst?

He would need more information to be sure, but he could guess Snape. Arguing with Snape had put Harriet in enough distress that she had accidentally apparated without a destination in mind. Remus assumed that she had thought of a person, the more complex version of Destination. Thinking of people led to splinching more often than not, and was not encouraged by any sane witch or wizard.

He found himself wishing for Lily and James. It was an old longing painted new colors now that Harriet was before him. Lily, James, and Harriet had been a sun in the darkness. His pack and the tie that bound the Mauraders together after school. Lily would know what to do about her daughter. James would have defended his daughter from any harm that would befall her. They were the protection that Harriet deserved.

They were dead. Their protection all used up by a madman and their closest friend betraying them.

The broken remnants that had been left behind; an abused young girl, a broken werewolf, and Peter's little finger. Where was the bright life that had seemed so promising when they had danced at Lily and Jame's wedding? All gone to the darkness.

He waved his wand to activate the floo. He needed to contact Severus. He was probably worried about where Harriet had gotten off to.

* * *

Severus had nearly sprinted up to Dumbledore's office. Blast and Blast again. Bugger, bugger, fucking hell.

How in God's bloody green earth had Harriet apparated at Hogwarts? It wasn't possible. Those wards had been strengthened over generations of headmasters and headmistresses. Severus had even added to the wards himself. They were a complicated web with so many layers that it was simply impossible to break through them at this point. Expanded magical core or not, it was not possible.

He came to the gargoyle, shouted an infernal sweet at it, and was heading up the stairs at a breakneck pace.

Dumbledore was sitting at his desk looking benign.

"Severus?" he asked with a lone raised brow. His voice soft in Severus' panic.

He was panting, and gasped out, "Harriet has apparated. I don't know where."

"Hmmm…." the Headmaster said through pursed lips. "Well, I suppose if it was any day it would be today."

"What would be today," Severus growled, feeling frustrated that he had apparently chosen the exact wrong moment to bare his soul to Harriet.

"It is the 212th day of the year," answered Dumbledore as if it explained everything. Which it bloody well didn't.

"And?" Snape barked.

"Do you know the strongest and weakest day of the wards at Hogwarts?" Dumbledore asked instead.

"It shouldn't matter which days are the strongest or weakest. Harriet has disappeared and we are at bloody Hogwarts. It isn't possible!"

"It isn't on a normal day. But today is the 212th. And as such the wards are at their weakest. While your average wizard would not be able to apparate even now, I imagine if a witch with a sufficiently expanded magical core were under enough distress she might be able to manage it."

Snape slumped down in a chair. "Bloody arithmancy."

"Luckily, Miss. Potter would not be able to get too far without my knowing." Dumbledore told him with a reassuring smile. "The wards do have a tracking spell on anyone who does manage to apparate. It alerts the Headmaster where the individual has gotten off to. Like a string one can follow."

"So you know where she has gone?" Snape asked feeling frustrated that Dumbledore hadn't given him that information to begin with.

"Mmm… I did a small spell to see where she got off to. Yorkshire as it turns out."

"And what is in Yorkshire?" Severus could feel a migraine coming on.

Dumbledore answered his question with a question. "What were you discussing with Harriet that caused her to run away?"

Severus felt cold and hot all at once. "There was a natural opening to discuss my involvement in her parent's death. She had a right to know."

Dumbledore looked grim. "It would have been easier if you had never told her Severus. Trust can be so easily fractured."

"It would break completely if I didn't discuss it with her. One day she will know all of it, she needed to know my involvement before then."

"Perhaps not the strategy I would have suggested," Dumbledore said. His eyes did not hold a twinkle.

"It isn't about strategy. It's about Harriet Potter deserving to know the truth about her life."

"She is twelve years old, Severus, and she is not her mother."

"I know she isn't Lily. She is her own bloody person. You can't seem to grasp that her very life might be threatened by her not knowing things. Leaving her ignorant like a lamb to the slaughter."

The energy around Dumbledore took on a decidedly different tone, heavy and frustrated. "No Severus, I have had enough of lambs to slaughter. Harriet is no sacrifice. She is so young. Forgive an old man his sentiments. His… desire for a child to live in ignorannt innocense as long as possible."

"It is a mistake."

"So was telling Harriet about your involvement. She may never trust you again. She may demand a new guardian. And what then, Severus? Who can we trust with the safety of Harriet Potter? What if she refuses to come back here with you?"

"She may not have a choice, Headmaster. Whether she likes it or not, she is my charge."

Dumbledore didn't look so sure. "We will see, Severus. As for where Harriet is, it is my belief that she is with Remus Lupin."

Severus mentally did the lunar calculation and was relieved that it was not a full moon. He didn't want Harriet to experience the horror of confronting a werewolf.

"Oh, and look. Here is Remus now no doubt," Dumbledore said as his grate turned green.

"Headmaster, sorry to intrude but I'm looking for..." Remus Lupin's head began in greeting to Dumbledore. "Oh good, and Severus. I was looking for you."

"Have you," Severus said feeling his lips curl into a snarl.

"Yes. Harriet is here. She's absolutely knackered. I tried to floo in at your home, but you weren't there."

"I have not been to Cokeworth for several weeks."

Lupin looked confused. "Harriet didn't apparate from Cokeworth?"

"Oh no," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "I'm afraid that a combination of lay lines, arithmetic chance, and a rather heated conversation with Severus here let Harri apparate out of Hogwarts."

"Oh yes, the 212th day of the year," Lupin muttered. No bloody way. How did the mutt know that? "Lily got a kick out of it you know," he said with a sad smile. "Said the date had to do with why labor was so draining."

Lily had known. Of course she had. While Severus had taken Care of Magical Creatures, Lily had taken up Arithmancy. She would have known the significance of her daughter's birthday.

"In any case, Harriet is sleeping now. I'd wager from the degree of magical exhaustion she'll be out for the rest of the night. She seemed… distressed, Severus."

"Yes, she would be. I doubt that Harriet will want to return to Hogwarts in the morning." Snape said briskly like it didn't bother him. Of course it did, but maybe what Harriet needed was a cooling off period. What had she been saying before all of this devolved? That she wanted to spend time with her friends?

"I will attempt to make arrangments with the Weasleys," he said with more surety than he felt.

"Oh, Fabian and Gideon's sister?" Lupin asked with a grin. "How is Molly Prewett these days?"

"Molly Weasley is quite well," Dumbledore said with happy ease. "Seven children you know. Very auspicious. The last one is starting Hogwarts this year."

"Seven children? Good Lord. I suppose I knew that she had five. Fabian and Gideon loved to joke about her twins."

"All well and good," Severus snapped. What a hellish evening it had been. "I will be in contact in the morning. I will see if Molly and Arthur Weasley don't mind another running around with their brood."

"Yes… well." Lupin didn't know where to go from there clearly. While Severus knew intellectually that Remus Lupin had never attempted to kill him, that had never stopped the deep seeded dislike that he felt for the man. A werewolf was dangerous.

"Good day, Lupin," Severus said firmly.

Lupin glanced at Dumbledore as if to see if the other man was done with him as well. A slight nod from the headmaster and the infernal werewolf was gone.

"You are running away, Severus," Dumbledore told him firmly.

"A strategic pause," Snape rebuttaled, and he walked out of the office.

"May 1st," Dumbledore called after him. "If you're curious about the day the wards are strongest."

He hadn't been.

* * *

Harri woke from a deep sleep. She came back to reality slowly, in the soft gentle way that occurs when you have nowhere particular to be and nothing that needs to be immediately done. The bed she slept on was soft and comfortable. The blankets were thin, and in a colder season, Harri might have felt chilled. But for the hight of summer, it was near perfect.

She opened her eyes and groped around for her glasses. She found them on a side table and put them on while sitting up to look around. It was not a richly furnished home. There was only one large room in the cabin, with two doors. Harri assumed that one door led to a bathroom. There was the area she had slept in, with the bed, night table, and chest of drawers. A very worn trunk was at the bottom of the bed. In the back corner adjacent to the bed was a small sitting area. That was where Remus Lupin currently slept. He was sprawled on a couch that had several patches in it and was a faded green. There was an armchair that looked slightly newer that was next to the fire. He also had a bookcase, which was the only area of the cabin that did not look spendthrift. Books on books filled it. For a personal collection, it was very impressive.

In the front of the cabin was a small table and chairs and a kitchen that held an ice chest, stovetop, and a second fireplace. A large cast iron pot was hanging in the grate.

Harri tried to remember what had been said last night. Had she explained Snape to Lupin? She didn't think she had. With a twisting feeling in her gut, Harri couldn't help but wonder if she was supposed to keep Snape's revelation to herself? It didn't feel like something she could keep quiet about. She wanted to shout, scream, and decompress. But… she also felt a certain loyalty to Snape. Which felt wrong. She didn't want to feel anything for him at the moment. He had sold her parents out, and he didn't even have the grace to feel shame about selling out a family to Voldemort. It was about her mother. It was always about her mother.

It would be all about her father with Remus Lupin too, probably. Though the two had written several letters, Harri couldn't let herself pretend that an adult was interested in anything more than Harri as she related to her parents. It didn't feel like anyone wanted Harri the person. Not even her friends who hadn't bothered to write her all summer.

Harri eventually got out of the bed and wandered over to the ice chest to see about some breakfast. If anything had ever put the Dursley's in a good mood it was breakfast. When Remus Lupin woke shortly, it was to the sight of eggs and bacon being set on the table. He rubbed his tired eyes.

"You cooked," he stated.

Harri shrugged, sitting down at her place. "It's not hard."

"No, but it is rather muggle of you. My mother used to make breakfast." There was a touch of nostalgia in his voice.

"Wizards don't cook?" Harri asked, feeling the now familiar furrow of otherness.

Lupin shook his head. "Not really. Many have House-elves like at Hogwarts. And others use magic to speed things along."

"House Elf? There are elves at Hogwarts?"

"They're a magical creature that is bound to a home. Or school, in Hogwart's case. Hogwarts has the largest number of house elves in England. Over a hundred, I think. We used to sneak into the kitchens at school and they were always happy to spoil students."

The two ate breakfast with the mild chatter that fills silence that is avoiding an awkward conversation. It was Lupin who broke first.

"Harri… I spoke with Severus last night. He seems fairly certain that you will not wish to return to Hogwarts for the summer."

"Not particularly," Harri replied with pursed lips.

"We are just waiting for word then. He said he would be in contact with Molly Weasley about you visiting for the rest of summer."

"I don't know if Ron would even want me to visit," Harri told him glumly. "I haven't heard from my friends all summer."

"I don't know if you should rely on teenaged boys to write. They're notoriously bad at it."

That cheered her more than Snape's commentary on the matter. Lupin was probably right about that… but Hermione. "My friend Hermione hasn't written either."

"Hermione Granger, your muggle-born friend? Does she have an owl?"

Harri felt shamefaced. "No."

"A simple misunderstanding then," Lupin said. "Nothing to worry about. I've found that most conflict between friends and family is simply a misunderstanding."

He paused, waiting to see if she would fill in the conversation. "I don't… I don't think I'm supposed to talk about it. There are secrets about me… and…" she couldn't' keep speaking. There was a lump in her throat.

"I know a thing or two about secrets, Harriet," Lupin told her with a grim smile. "For years I hid my nature from my friends at Hogwarts. I said my mother was sick. That I had to go home and visit her. Eventually, they caught on. Do you know what they did?"

Harri shook her head.

"They became animagus. Your father literally mastered complex transfiguration as a fifth year so he could spend the full moons with me. Harriet, it was the happiest time of my life. To have my friends while I was transformed and to know that they would stop me from hurting anyone. I can remember those times more clearly than any other transformation. They were my pack. You don't need to tell me your secret. It is none of my business. But I urge you, share with your friends. Don't make the same mistakes I did and wait for years. Your friends will surprise you."

Harri opened her mouth, ready to let it all spill out. Everything about Voldemort as her soulmate, Snape selling her parents out, and the revelation that there was a secret bit of information that had motivated Voldemort to go after her family.

But before she could say a word the fire in the grate turned green, and Snape's head appeared.

Her mouth closed with an audible click.


	20. Memoriae: The Burrow

Harri couldn't bring herself to look at Professor Snape's head in the fireplace. She ran out of the cabin before he could say a word. Let Lupin work it out. She couldn't handle him. She felt her magic, still depleted as it was, start to hum in agitation.

Meditate.

Meditate Harri. Clear your mind. Gain control. She had no success. She couldn't clear her mind and she was not in control. Her magic was too weak to do anything much though, so she sat down on the grass and let it whirl around her. She kept trying to settle her mind, but it wouldn't settle. Her heart was beating in her ears, and she felt like she was seeing white.

But really those were the tears that were filling her eyes and blurring her vision.

She felt so weak. Here she was, crying over Professor Snape. Hadn't he been the one to betray her trust? Hadn't he been the one in the wrong here? So why was she crying like she had lost someone? Like he mattered to her.

Because he did.

The realization hit her like a truck. Somehow, over the last year, between potions lessons, memory sharing, and a joyful summer in Africa, Severus Snape had become family to Harri. In a way that was different than her friends or any other adult she knew.

Harri realized that she hadn't just trusted Snape because of her mother. She had started to trust Snape for his own sake. All of this revelation was like the rug had been ripped out from under her.

Some minutes later Remus Lupin joined her outside. It was a warm summer day even in the early morning.

"Severus has arranged for you to go the Weasleys on the 4th. He thought you might like a few days here. He sent along a few of your things and said he'd get the rest to the Weasley's by the afternoon you get there."

Harri nodded, staring at the grass.

"Would you like to tell me what happened Harriet?" Lupin asked.

Harri shook her head but told him anyway. "He told Voldemort about my parents. Or… he told Voldemort something that made him want to attack my parents."

Remus sat beside her in the sun. "Yes, I'd heard something like that from Dumbledore. Years ago." Harri looked up at Remus.

"Do you know about it too? Whatever it is that made Voldemort want to kill me?" Harri asked.

"No, not specifically. Your parents knew, and they went into hiding. They used something called the Fidelius Charm to hide from Voldemort. Sirius Black, your godfather, was the Secret Keeper. The secret was your parent's location. Only the Secret Keeper could divulge the secret. So even though I knew where they were, I couldn't tell anyone. In the end Harriet, it was Voldemort who killed them and Sirius who betrayed them. Snape didn't know it was your mother he was betraying."

"I'm not upset because it was my parents," she told Remus softly. "I mean, of course, I feel upset... but that isn't all of it. He explained to me that he didn't know it would be my mum. He only regretted it because it WAS her. Not because some other family would have been killed."

"They were dark times, Harriet. Truly dark. No one knew who to trust. I was approached several times by the Dark to join. The werewolf who bit me, Fenrir Greyback, he was always trying to call my wolf to their side. There was a pull," he told Harri seriously.

"I loved your parents. I was grateful to Dumbledore for letting me attend Hogwarts. I don't believe in Pureblood supremacy because my mother was a muggle. Yet even I was pulled and attracted to the Dark. The darkness inside of me wanted to go and join that pack."

"Are you trying to excuse Snape?" Harri asked, shying away from Lupin.

"No. It was wrong. He was wrong. What I am saying… oh I don't know if I'm even saying it right. Just that things were complicated. It was like a spell of darkness was being woven around the whole country... like a net. And we were all just fish, drowning in it, being pulled along without a say in the matter."

"But you did have a say. You stayed true to the light," Harri said with conviction.

"I stayed true to my friends," Lupin corrected. "I am a werewolf Harriet, my magic is not light and never will be."

"I don't… I don't think I understand."

"No. And I hope you never do. I'm not saying this well," Lupin rubbed his face. "The dark called to us. Those of us with darker magical cores were more susceptible. I suppose that's why Sirius fell in the end. Severus Snape… he is a Dark Wizard, Harriet. A very powerful one. I don't know how much agency he had."

"I don't want to talk about this," Harri said firmly. "Let's talk about something else, please."

Lupin didn't say more about it. He turned the subject to brighter topics. Of her father as a schoolboy and tales of tricks from childhood. It was lighthearted. Harri listened to that, and tried to forget about the dark times that would ruin the lives of the four boys called 'The Marauders'.

* * *

Ron's house looked as though it had once been a large stone pigpen, but extra rooms had bee added here and there until it was several stories high and so crooked it looked as though it was held up by magic (which, Harri reminded herself, it probably was). Four or five chimneys were perched on top of the red roof. A lopsided sign stuck in the ground near the entrance read, THE BURROW. Around the front door lay a jumble or rubber boots and a very rusty cauldron. Several fat brown chickens were pecking their way around the yard.

It looked like a home. Not the neat prim lawns of Privet Drive or the depressing gloom of Spinner's End. This looked like a place where there was mess, clutter, and happiness.

"It's wonderful," Harri breathed. Lupin looked at her with a lopsided grin.

"You're just like your father," he said with a chuckle. "He always liked places like this too."

"But he had parents... a home."

"Yes," Lupin agreed. "But the Potters… well, he and Sirius both shared a very strict upbringing. All houselves and distant parenting."

"Was your house like this then?" Harri asked.

"A bit. My father hunted ghouls and magical creatures. My mother was a muggle, but she let him get away with all sorts of magical modifications. For a time it was a very charmed childhood."

"But then…" and she couldn't bring herself to say anything about his lycanthropy.

"But then I was bitten, and things changed. My home was still very magical. But my mother never understood what had happened to her son. My father felt nothing but guilt. I liked having my friends for the summer because my parents were much more like themselves before all that."

They were approaching the front door when Lupin turned to her and said seriously, "I'm sure it goes without saying Harri but I'd appreciate-"

"If I didn't tell anyone. I won't. It's not my secret. I know about those, remember."

Lupin looked as if he wanted to keep talking, and like he wanted to give Harri time to confess her secrets to him. It had been three days of carefully dancing around each other, pretending that they weren't wounded animals. Instead of asking he shook his head as if to clear his mind and took the final few paces to the door to knock.

A short, plump, kind-faced woman answered the door. Ron's mother looked the way a mother should, Harri thought. She was covered in flour, her hair was pulled away from her face in a messy sort of bun, and she wore a worn frock and a flowered apron. Her wand was sticking out of the pocket.

"I'm very pleased to see you, Harri dear," she started. "Come in and have some breakfast. Would you like to join too, Remus?"

"No, no. I've got work shortly."

"Well do let me at least send you off with something. I've got some toast just finished. I'll make something to go."

Remus clearly knew that he would be rude to refuse, so he joined Harri as they made their way inside.

"That's really kind of you, Molly," he said.

The kitchen was small and rather cramped. There was a scrubbed wooden table and chairs in the middle, and Harri sat down on the edge of her seat, looking around. She had never been in a fully magical house before.

The clock on the wall opposite her had only one hand and no numbers at all. Written around the edge were things like Time to make tea, Time to feed the chickens, and You're late. Books were stacked three deep on the mantlepiece, books with titles like _Charm Your Own Cheese, Enchantments in Baking,_ and _One Minute Feasts- It's Magic!_ And unless Harri's ears were deceiving her, the old radio next to the sink had just announced that coming up was "Witching Hour, with the popular singer sorceress, Celestina Warbeck."

Mrs. Weasley was clattering around, making Lupin a breakfast to go.

"Now I didn't tell Ron you were coming, Harri dear. I thought it would be a nice surprise. I sent the boys out to degnome the garden, so they should be in any minute."

Harri's heart sank a little. Ron didn't know she was here. What if all her fears were confirmed and he didn't want her? What if he had decided that she was more trouble than she was worth? He hadn't written all summer…

Mrs. Weasley flicked her wand casually at the dishes in the sink, which began to clean themselves, clinking in the background. She wrapped up the toast, bacon, and sausage for Remus and handed it to him.

"Thank you so much for bringing Harri along," she said with a smile. "Ron was so worried when he hadn't heard from her all summer, but I'm glad she got to visit an old family friend."

Ron hadn't heard from her all summer? That wasn't right.

"Oh yes," Remus said. "Well… It was good for her to visit. But vacation over for me." He turned to leave. "I'll be seeing you Harri, and do figure out what's going on with your post. I didn't receive any letters from you either this summer."

He waved a merry goodbye and left out the kitchen door. Mrs. Weasley turned to Harri. "Now dear, you do eat up. I know you've been at Hogwarts and with Profesor Snape, but you're still too thin. I'm sure, being a man engrossed in his research, Professor Snape didn't always remember to stop for food." She looked pointedly out the kitchen window towards a shed.

"Does Mr. Weasley get engrossed in a project?" she asked.

"Oh indeed. You should see the things he gets up to. He has a car that… well, he really shouldn't you know, but being the head of the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department it's for purely research purposes, but he has figured out all sorts of things to do to our Ford Anglea."

"I had a dream once about flying in a motorcycle," Harri commented. "Hagrid said that he got me to the Durlsey's that way, so it's more of memory I think. Is it that sort of enchantment?"

"Yes, a bit like that," Mrs. Weasley said with a put upon smile. "It isn't of much interest to me, if I do say so. But Arthur likes it, and a man should have a hobby. They get a bit underfoot without one."

"I wouldn't know," Harri answered, unsure of how to discuss things like men.

"Of course not, you're much too young for things like that," she said glancing down at Harri's wrist covering. Silver and unmatched.

"Do you have any questions about that sort of thing," she asked abruptly. "I can imagine it isn't the sort of thing you want to discuss with a male professor."

"Ron and Neville have done their best to fill me and Hermione in," Harri told her.

Mrs. Weasley didn't look at all uncomfortable, which was new for Harri. Usually, Ron was bright pink. "Oh Ron," she said with a smile. "He hates talking about those sorts of things. I've no idea why. Probably his brothers. And it is in poor taste to discuss it glibly. But for educational reasons, there is nothing to be ashamed of." Harri's own cheeks were a bit pink, and she glanced at Mrs. Weasley's golden cover.

"Let me show you," she said. She unlatched the cover, and showed her wrist to Harri. "You're the twin's sister?" was there in a messy scrawl.

"Arthur and I met before Hogwarts. We're both from old families. Has Ron mentioned the quill?" she asked Harri. Harri nodded. "Well, Arthur is two years older than I am. He and my brothers were in the same year at Hogwarts. I ran into him while shopping the year before I started school. Oh, he makes fun of me, but my answer was just 'Yes.' His parents had stopped his quill recording, and he had no idea it was me for years. And then, when I got my wand and checked I saw that it was Arthur Weasley. I didn't tell him right off, I just assumed he knew!"

"But he was nice about it, when you did tell him?"

"Arthur doesn't have a mean bone in his body," she replied with a pleasant smile. "By my third year, I was spitting mad at him. I thought he was ignoring me on purpose. I marched right up to him and told him that it was his duty to take me to Hogsmeade and I wouldn't take no for an answer."

Harri laughed. It felt good to laugh about someone's soulmark for once.

Mrs. Weasley put her cover back on. "Usually it's straight forward," she affirmed to Harri. "Usually you know right away. But you didn't have a recorder quill. Are you… do you need any help with it all? Any questions? You don't really need to worry about it, being so young. But it must have been a shock to find out about."

"Well… maybe." Harri said. Ron's mother was very warm and clearly wanted Harri to be comfortable. "It seems like everyone meets their soulmate at school. Is that typical?"

"Yes and no. There is a book," Mrs. Weasley tapped her chin with her wand as she thought. "I'll have to look for it when we go shopping for school supplies. But it goes into some of the research. A soulmate is not necessarily the only person you could be happy with. It's about magical compatibility. Usually, it is someone around your own age and not too far off geographically. Your magic searches out the best fit, and bonds with that."

"Are there exceptions though?"

"There are always exceptions," Mrs. Weasley said. "Why my friend Abigale must have been fifteen years younger than Sturgis. It's a great mystery in a way. Because she wouldn't have been born for his magic to find, and the words were there just the same when he was eleven. Magic works in mysterious ways. But we know it can transcend time, there are Time-turners. But there is no reason to think you'd be an exception Harri. It's very rare to have an age gap over five years."

"Yes, well…" Harri trailed off. Lost, she was always lost when it came to human interaction. Mrs. Weasley was enjoyable to talk to. It was relieving to speak to an adult who wasn't shying away from a taboo topic. Still… she didn't really know Mrs. Weasley. Warm and motherly as she was.

Harri was saved the necessity of continuing on though when Ron, Fred, George, and Percy all came into the kitchen.

"They'll just come back," Ron was grousing as they entered the kitchen. "They love it here… Dad's too soft with them!" All four boys immediately grabbed plates.

The boys didn't notice Harri sitting at the table. They had a sister, so seeing their mother speak to a redhead girl at the table wasn't worth much attention as they were filling their plates high with food.

It wasn't until Fred turned to her to say, "Pass the salt Gi- Harri?" that the boys looked up to notice that it wasn't Ginny Weasley sitting with them.

"Harri!" Ron exclaimed, bouncing up from his seat! "Blimey, when did you get here?"

"About fifteen minutes ago," Harri said with a smile.

"So that's why she made us go degnome!" George accused, glaring at his mother.

"She usually FEEDS US first," Fred added pointedly.

Mrs. Weasley ignored them, putting away plates with her back turned to the group.

Just then, the front door slammed.

"He's back!" said George. "Dad's home!"

Mr. Weasley came into the kitchen and slumped onto a kitchen chair. He took his glasses off and closed his eyes. He was a thin man, going bald, but the little hair he had was as red as any of his children's. He was wearing long green robes, which were dusty and travel-worn.

"What a night," he mumbled, groping for the teapot. "Nine raids. Nine! And old Mundungus Fletcher tried to put a hex on me when I had my back turned…"

Mr. Weasley took a long gulp of tea and sighed.

"Find anything, Dad?" Fred asked eagerly.

"All I got were a few shrinking door keys and a biting kettle," yawned Mr. Weasley. "There was some pretty nasty stuff that wasn't my department, though. Mortlake was taken away for questioning about some extremely odd ferrets, but that's the Committee on Experimental Charms, thank goodness.."

The committee on what? It sounded like the Magical Ministry was just as bureaucratic as the muggle one. Endless department and committees.

"Why would anyone bother making door keys shrink?" asked George.

"Just Muggle-baiting," sighed Mr. Weasley. "Sell them a key that keeps shrinking to nothing so they can never find it when they need it… Of course, it's very hard to convict anyone because no Muggle would admit their key keeps shrinking- they'll insist they just keep losing it. Bless them, they'll go to any lengths to ignore magic, even if it's staring them in the face… but the things our lot have taken to enchanting, you wouldn't believe-"

Muggle baiting? People still did that? Harri had known from Draco Malfoy's attitude towards Hermione that lots of wizards didn't approve of Muggles, even a decade after the fall of Voldemort. Did they really go out of their way to mildly frustrate muggles? For what purpose? It just seemed mean spirited instead of true evil. In a way that was worse. Who would go out of their way to mildly inconvenience muggles? It seemed like far more energy than it was worth, even with blood prejudice involved.

"Enough of that dear," said Mrs. Weasley putting a plate of food in front of her husband. "We have a guest,"

Mr. Weasley blearily looked around at the table of redheads. He rubbed his eyes and put his glasses back on to discover Harri sitting in their midst.

"Oh, hello!" he said rather more cheerfully than he had looked a moment ago. "One of the boy's friends from school?"

"Yes sir," Harri replied. "Harri."

"Good lord, is it Harriet Potter? Very pleased to meet you, Ron's told us so much about you."

"Not all bad I hope," Harri replied trying to ignore Mr. Weasley's glace at her forehead. She had talked to Lavender and Parvati about getting bangs last year, but they insisted that it wouldn't be flattering with her face shape.

"Well there was that business with the Philosopher's Stone," Mrs. Weasley said not unkindly. "We rather wish you four hadn't been put into a position like that."

"Ron's explained why you all went down there. I quite see his point. But perhaps next time find an adult who will listen."

Harri felt her cheeks flame. Of course Ron's parents wouldn't be happy that she had dragged Ron into danger.

"Mum, Dad! I've told you a million times that there wasn't an adult who wouldn't listen. Harri didn't put us up to it either. She told us four times that she would go alone."

"And we've told you, Ron," said Mrs. Weasley with a very serious face, "That we are proud of you for standing by your friends. It was very brave and it would have made your uncles proud. But rushing into danger as an untrained wizard can be very dangerous. We read the medical report. You could have been very seriously hurt when that chess piece hit you."

"But I wasn't!" Ron insisted.

"We can be done with that conversation," Mr. Weasley said, rubbing his eyes again and finishing his breakfast. "I'm off to bed. Where is Ginny? I'd like to say hello before I go to sleep."

"I'll fetch her," said Mrs. Weasley, heading into the next room and (as Harri could hear) up the stairs.

"I really am sorry," Harri said in a hushed voice to Mr. Weasley. "I asked them to go back. But I wouldn't have made it if it weren't for Ron. I'm rubbish at chess."

Ron's ears went pink at the praise.

"We don't blame you, Harriet," Mr. Weasley said, turning to her. "Of course we don't. We lived through those times. And the fact that you… with You-Know-Who. It's almost beyond belief."

"Well you know Wood really was beyond belief, Harri," Goerge began.

"He kept badgering to have the final postponed," continued Fred.

"Surely having our seeker in the hospital because the Defense teacher turned evil..." carried on George.

"Was reason enough to wait for the match!" they finished in unison.

Harri laughed, "I've apologized to Wood thirty times!" she insisted.

"Well now we will hear all about how we should have won," Fred told her solemnly. "It's all your fault. He'll be fanatical all year."

"Say hello to your father," Mrs. Weasley said frog marching Ginny into the room. She had the same shade of hair as her brothers, but it was very pretty and long. She had bright brown eyes and a rather terrified expression on her face.

"Hello Dad," she said before trying to turn and run.

Mrs. Weasley stopped her. "And this is Harri. She's in the year ahead of you at school."

"Hi Ginny," Harri said, meeting her frightened eyes. "I've heard a lot about you from Ron." She hadn't really, but it seemed like the right thing to say.

Ginny squeaked and escaped her mother, running back up the stairs.

"Weird," Ron said looking at the spot where Ginny had disappeared. "She's never this shy. She never shuts up normally-"

"Ron," his mother said sharply.

"Sorry," he said in an automatic reply.

"You'll be in Ginny's room, Harri." Mrs. Weasly told her.

"Mum! Why can't Harri stay with me?" Ron asked in frustration.

"Because she's a girl, Ron," Mrs. Weasley snapped back.

"Now Molly dear, surely that isn't-" her glare stopped Mr. Weasley's words.

"That's all right," Harri said with a smile. "I'm sure we'll get along fine. Professor Snape said he'd send along my things this afternoon."

"Good, good," said Mr. Weeasley getting up. "I'm off to bed," he said kissing his wife on the cheek. He left the room, and Harri stood to help clear the table.

"None of that Harri, you're our guest! Ron why don't you show her around?" and the two were pushed out of the kitchen. Harri could hear Mrs. Weasley bossing Fred and George into helping her clean.

"I should have you around more often," Ron told her beaming. "I never get out of chores."

Harri laughed as Ron led her up the stairs to his room. They climbed five flights of stairs before they reached a door with peeling paint and a small plaque on it saying, RONALD'S ROOM.

Harri stepped in, her head almost touching the sloping ceiling and blinked. It was like walking into a furnace. Nearly everything in Ron's room seemed to be a violent shade of orange: the bedspread, the walls, even the ceiling. Then Harri realized that Ron had covered nearly every inch of the shabby wallpaper with posters of the same seven witches and wizards, all wearing bright orange robes, carrying broomsticks, and waving energetically.

"Your Quidditch team?" asked Harri.

"The Chudley Cannons," said Ron, pointing at the orange bedspread, which was emblazoned with two giant black C's and a speeding cannonball. "Ninth in the league."

Ron's school spellbooks were stacked untidily in a corner, next to a pile of comics that all seemed to feature _The Adventures of Martin Miggs, the Mad Muggle_. Ron's magic wand was lying on top of a fish tank full of frog spawn on the windowsill, next to his fat gray rat, Scabbers, who was snoozing in a patch of sun

Harri stepped over a pack of self-shuffling playing cards on the floor and looked out the tiny window. In the field far below she could see a gang of creatures sneaking one by one through the Weasley's head.

"Are those gnomes?" she asked Ron.

He looked out the window too. "Yup, they never stay away for long."

She turned to look at Ron who as watching her almost nervously, as though waiting for her opinion. "It's a bit small," said Ron quickly. "Not like what you have at Hogwarts. And I'm right underneath the ghoul in the attic; he's always banging on the pipes and groaning…"

"Ron I lived in a cupboard for ten years of my life. Everything about your family home is miles better than that. It's the best house I've ever been in"

Ron's ear went pink.

"I'm glad you're here!" Ron said at last to Harri. "I was getting worried that Snape had killed you after all when you didn't answer any of my letters. I thought it was Errol's fault at first-"

"You didn't get any of my letters?"

"No," Ron said with a confused look. "Neville, Hermione, and I all thought that you were too busy in Africa at first. But then there was that article in the Prophet about Snape bringing back a Runespoor for research, and we figured you'd start answering. But you didn't."

Harri furrowed her brows. "I wrote all of you letters. All summer."

"Blimey, that's weird. What could stop your mail like that?"

Harri just shrugged, knowing less about owl post than Ron did.

"I thought it was Errol. He's awful. I tried to get Hermes-"

"Who?"

"The owl Mum and Dad bought Percy when he was made perfect."

"But he didn't lend him to you?" Harri asked.

"No. He's been acting strange all summer. Fred and George keep trying to break into his room to find out what he's doing. But anyway, yeah. We hadn't heard from you, and we were all worried."

"I thought that maybe you didn't want to talk to me anymore," Harri told Ron not meeting his eyes. "That after all the stuff with Voldemort-" Ron flinched.

"Nah, mate," Ron told her firmly. "It takes more than a Dark Lord to scare me off. Spiders though, if it had been spiders there would have been a question."

It was Harri's turn to blush.


	21. Memoriae: At Flourish and Blotts

Ginny Weasley was odd.

She skittered around Harri like a fearful animal. Every time Harri entered a room, Ginny rushed to exit. When Harri went to Ginny's room to sleep the room was already dark and Ginny was completely covered in blankets. The pallet that Harri slept on by Ginny's bed was comfortable, and Harri didn't mind sleeping there at all, but she missed the easy conversation of her dorm.

Lavender and Parvati would usually stay up talking late, their giggles and soft whispers a lullaby to Harri. On her other side, Hermione would usually be reading with a soft light glowing in the crack between curtains. After a particularly bad day or harsh dream, Hermione might even crawl into bed with Harri. Only a little older, but taller and more filled out, Hermione was soft where Harri was boney and sharp angles.

That said, life at the Burrow was as different as possible from life on Privet Drive, Hogwarts, Spinner's End, or Lupin's cabin. The Weasley's house burst with the strange and unexpected, filled with magic and laughter. It was the first homey home Harri had ever seen. Everyone at the Burrow seemed to like her, not just tolerate her presence. Even nervous Ginny seemed more in awe of Harri than opposed to her very existence.

Mrs. Weasley fussed over the state of Harri's socks and tried to force her to eat third helpings at every meal. Mr. Weasley liked Harri to sit next to him at the dinner table so that he could bombard her with questions about life in the Muggle World, asking her to explain how things like plugs and postal service worked. Harri was more than happy to discuss the post, and Mr. Weasley agreed that owls were largely a ridiculously method of transporting mail.

"Sadly, it's the only thing that works with all the wards. You should see the trouble the Ministry has going to old guard's homes to perform raids. They've been stockpiling highly illegal items for generations, and getting in for an inspection takes more time than the inspection itself!"

Harri was also happy to show Mr. Weasley her guitar. The magical world had musical instruments, but they usually came enchanted to be self-playing, or at the very least helped your fingers move along the strings. It was like a cheat code in a video game. Mr. Weasley couldn't believe how well Harri played (even if she missed several fingerings and had difficulty keeping to the tune of the song).

The ghoul in the attic howled and dropped pipes whenever he felt things were getting too quiet, and small explosions from Fred and Goerge's bedroom were considered perfectly normal. Like other wizarding homes, there wasn't really a restriction to using magic outside of school. The magical trace that was placed on students could only detect magic in muggle areas. Hermione had ranted about it when they had received the note, and Neville had taken the time to explain that it didn't actually affect anyone but Muggleborns and a few half-bloods.

Ginny started to calm down about a week after Harri arrived, and Harri was slowly coaxing whole sentences from the monosyllabic girl. The two ate breakfast one sunny morning, and Ginny only dropped her spoon twice while maintaining a conversation with Harri. Harri pretended to not notice any clumsiness that Ginny displayed.

Ron had explained on the second day, "She used to pretend to be you. The Girl-Who-Lived was her favorite bedtime story growing up, and she'd spend hours play acting. Don't tell her I told you, she'd probably faint."

"So it isn't that she can't stand me?" Harri had sighed with relief.

"Nah, mate. She worships the ground you walk on, more like."

Harri made a face, "I'm sure I won't live up."

Ron just laughed, "Harri, you do realize that you took her big brother on an adventure to face down Voldemort all of three months ago."

Harri stuck her tongue out at Ron, before throwing several cushions at him.

It was shortly after Mrs. Weasley served up a fresh round of bacon, that Mr. Weasley came to breakfast with the post.

"Letters from school," said Mr. Weasley, passing Harri, Ron, Fred, George, and Ginny identical envelopes of yellowish parchment, addressed in green ink.

For a few minutes, there was a silence as they all read their letters. Harri's told her to floo back to Hogwarts on August 31st. So much for riding the train with her friends, she thought with a grimace.

There was also a list of the new books she'd need for the coming year.

Second-Year Students Will Require

 _The Standard Book of Spells_ , Grade 2

by Miranda Goshawk

 _Break with a Banshee_ by Gilderoy Lockheart

 _Gadding with Ghouls_ by Gilderoy Lockheart

 _Holidays with Hags_ by Gilderoy Lockheart

 _Travels with Trolls_ by Gilderoy Lockheart

 _Voyages with Vampires_ by Gilderoy Lockheart

 _Wanderings with Werewolves_ by Gilderoy Lockheart

Year _with the Yeti_ by Gilderoy Lockheart

Fred, who had finished his own list, peered over at Harri's.

"You've been told to get all Lockheart's books too!" he said. "The new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher must be a fan- bet it's a witch."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Harri said with a glare. Hermione was a fan of Lockheart, but Harri wasn't. His too smiling picture on the back cover of Hermione's copy of Travels with Trolls seemed very fake. He reminded her of a handsome version of Dudley, certain that he could get his way with just charm. Harri had read his Witch Weekly interviews with Lavender and Parvati to equal appall.

Mrs. Weasley was also glaring at Fred for his remark, and he quickly busied himself with the marmalade.

"That lot won't come cheap," said George, with a quick look at his parents. "Lockheart's books are really expensive…"

"Well, we'll manage," said Mrs. Weasley, but she looked worried. "I expect we'll be able to pick up a lot of Ginny's things secondhand."

Harri, who knew a thing or two about second-hand items, could why Ginny was blushing from the roots of her flaming hair. Money, it was always money. Harri wondered if the Weasleys would accept money from her trust vault. Some kind of donation? Or could she race to the bookshop and buy all the Weasleys copies of Lockhart's books before Mrs. Weasley could say no?

That plan seemed the easiest to instigate. And it prevented refusal. Would it be the right thing though? Harri knew that Ron was very prideful, and that money was the surest way to make him uncomfortable. Would a gift like that be embarrassing to the Weasleys? How could she frame it? As a thank you? As an apology for almost getting Ron killed?

There was no good way.

Maybe she could offer Ginny some of her clothes that didn't fit anymore? Ginny was thin and short, so Harri's old clothes would fit her. They weren't even very worn. Harri, having grown up with so little, took obsessive care with her clothing. Harri had amazingly grown over the last year and would need to supplement her wardrobe, so really Ginny could take the things that didn't fit. They would be nicer than what she would find at a second-hand store.

Harri was cut from her musings by Percy walking into the kitchen. He was already dressed, his Hogwart's prefect badge pinned to his summer vest.

"Morning all," said Percy briskly.

He sat down in the only remaining chair but lept up again almost immediately, pulling from underneath him a molting, gray feather duster. At least, that was what Harri thought it was until she saw that it was breathing.

"Errol" said Ron, taking the limp owl from Percy's hand and extracting a letter from under its wing. "Finally- he's got Hermione's answer. I wrote to her saying you had come to visit."

Ron carried Errol to a perch just inside the back door and tried to stand him on it, but Errol flopped straight off again as Ron lay him on the braining board, muttering, "Pathetic." Then he ripped open Hermione's letter and read it out loud.

 _Dear Ron and Harri,_

 _I hope everything went all right this summer for you Harri, Ron mentioned that you haven't been receiving our letters and that really is such a shame. Have you figured out what is wrong with your post? I've been really worried about your Harri, it's so unlike you. But then I wondered if you were feeling guilty about the end of the school year, and you really shouldn't. I explained it all to my parents, and they quite agree that a world surrounded in_ bigatory _is no place to live. I may have left out some of the more life-threatening parts._

 _I'm very busy with schoolwork of course- " How can she be?" Ron said in horror. "We're on vacation!- and we're going to London next Wednesday to buy my new books. Why don't we meet in Diagon Alley? Send your reply soon, but it might be better if you used a different owl, because I think another delivery might finish your one off._

 _Let me know what's happening as soon as you can. Love from Hermione._

"Well that fits in nicely, we can go and get all your things then, too," said Mrs. Weasley, starting to clear the table. "What're you all up to today?"

Harri, Ron, Fred, and George were planning to go up the hill to a small paddock the Weasleys owned. It was surrounded by trees that blocked it from view of the village below, meaning that they could practice Quidditch there, as long as they didn't fly too high.

They couldn't use real Quidditch balls, which would have been hard to explain if they had escaped and flown away over the village, instead they threw apples for one another to catch. Harri's Nimbus was the best broom whereas Ron's old Shooting Star was often outstripped by passing butterflies. So they all switched to give everyone time with the better broom. Harri didn't mind sharing at all, considering that she had never had anything of value to share before her speedy broom.

"Would you like to come Ginny?" Harri asked.

"Ginny can't fly," Ron said with a derisive snort.

"Yes, I can!" Ginny exclaimed. It was her first decisive statement in from of Harri.

This was apparently news to everyone in the room because Fred and George started to laugh. Ginny turned red.

"I'm sure she can!" Harri insisted.

"Ginny has never flow with us," Ron said.

"I've flown on my own," Ginny said quietly.

"Well it won't be even numbers," Ron muttered.

"That doesn't matter. We can all take turns," Harri said with real determination. If Ginny said that she could fly, well Harri believed her. It seemed like her brothers were mocking her because she was their little sister.

Five minutes later they were marching up the hill, broomsticks over their shoulders. They had asked Percy if he wanted to join them, but he had said he was busy. Harri had only seen Percy at mealtimes so far; he stayed shut in his room the rest of the time.

"Wish I knew what he was up to," said Fred, frowning. "He's not himself. His exam results came the day before you did; twelve O.W.L.s and he hardly gloated at all."

George gave Harri a sidelong look, "Bill got twelve, too. If we're not careful, we'll have another Head Boy in the family. I don't think I could stand the shame."

Bill was the oldest Weasley brother. He and the next brother, Charlie, had already left Hogwarts. Harri had never met either of them but knew that Charlie was in Romania studying dragons and Bill in Egypt working for the wizard's bank, Gringotts.

"Dunno how Mum and Dad are going to afford all our school stuff this year," said George after a while. "Five sets of Lockhart books! Any Ginny needs robes and a wand and everything…"

"I was thinking about that," Harri commented. The Weasleys all stopped in their tracks. "Well, I have some clothes that don't fit anymore. I must have grown four inches last school year. Ginny could have my old robes. If you want."

Ginny was so pale you could see every freckle on her face. "I don't… We don't… charity…" she squawked.

"It really isn't!" Harri insisted. "I wore hand-me-downs my entire life! And my cousin was a right whale. None of it fit. And I promise I took good care of them. They shouldn't look used at all, I promise."

The boys didn't say anything, but eventually, everyone kept walking. Harri knew better to keep commenting on money. When she had lived with the Dursleys she hadn't wanted anyone to notice her. Notice her lack of fitting clothes, her broken glasses, or her scruffy appearance. She had looked like a boy half the time, with wild stringy hair. Money had changed everything. Suddenly, Harri had gotten to feel comfortable in her own skin. In clothes that fit, glasses that weren't broken, and hair that was neatly braided back. She looked like a girl. She looked like a person that deserved common decency, not like a street urchin that everyone could turn their noses up at.

So no, Harri wouldn't talk about money. She knew the value of it, and the pain of not having any. The Weasleys were the kindest people Harri had ever met, and if she had her way she would give every galleon, sickle, and knut that was in her trust vault so that they wouldn't have to worry anymore. Kind people shouldn't have to worry, Harri thought.

Flying soon brought an end to her contemplation of coin.

Harri laughed and whopped with joy to seen Ginny Weasley fly in magnificent circles on the Nimbus.

Ginny flew as well as any of them, much to her brothers' shock.

* * *

Mrs. Weasley woke them all early the following Wednesday. After a quick half a dozen bacon sandwiches each, they pulled on their coats and Mrs. Weasley brought out the floo powder.

"We're running low, Arthur," she sighed. "We'll have to buy some more today… Ah well, guests first! After you, Harri dear!"

She took a pinch of the glittering powder and threw it into the flames. With a roar, the fire turned green and rose higher than Harri. She stepped right into it, and shouted "Diagon Alley!"

Harri did not like floo powder. It made her want to cough from the ash, but she managed to clearly say her destination. She was glad that Mrs. Weasley would let her go first because Harri wanted to rush to Flourish and Blotts to buy the Lockhart books before the Weasleys got there.

As always, it felt as though she was being sucked down a giant drain. She seemed to be spinning very fast- the roaring in her ears was deafening- she tried to keep her eyes open but the whirl of green flames made her feel sick- something hard knocked her elbow and she tucked it in tightly, still spinning and spinning- now it felt as though cold hands were slapping her face- squinting through her glasses she saw a blurred stream of fireplaces and snatched glimpses of rooms beyond- her bacon sandwiches were churning inside her- she closed her eyes again wishing it would stop, and then-

She fell, face forward, onto cold stone and felt the bridge of her glasses snap.

Drat.

Harri stood, brushing off the soot and moved out of the way. It was poor form to use magic outside of Hogwarts in public, but she did it anyway.

" _Reparo_ ," she hissed as she made her way out of the Leaky Cauldron as quickly as possible.

She could hear the Weasleys start to arrive on her heels. She was still dizzy and tad bit bruised. Harri knew that she had enough money to buy most anything in Diagon Alley, her current plan was to purchase the books while the Weasley's went to Gringotts, present them, and then go down to her own vault to replenish her coffers.

Harri headed for Flourish and Blotts once she was in the Alley. As she approached she was a large banner stretched across the upper windows:

Gilderoy Lockhart

Will be signing copies of his autobiography

MAGICAL ME

Today 12:30 P.M to 4:30 P.M

Harri sighed with relief that it was still half an hour before the signing, so the bookshop wasn't bursting yet. Grabbing a bag that held up to a hundred books at no added weight at the front, Harri quickly found the Hogwart's school book section. She placed her own required copy of _The Standard Book of Spells Grade 2_ in the bag and then added six box sets of the Lockheart books.

Harri went to the counter to buy the books and went pale when she saw the amount required. After her purchase, Harri was only left with two silver sickles and six knuts.

"Come back later if you want these signed," the wizard manning the counter said kindly. "It's expected to be a bit of an event. The Prophet is coming by for his big announcement at one."

Harri gave her best smile, though she was sure that it looked fake. Harri didn't give two figs about what Gilderoy Lockhart was announcing.

She came out into the sunlight with her bag of books, and was able to spot the Weasleys talking to Hermione, and couple that could only be her parents.

"But you're Muggles," Mr. Weasley said with delight as Harri came up even with them. "We must have a drink! What are you wanted to do, exchange your money? Well, let's all head to Gringotts!"

"Harri dear," Mrs. Weasley said pulling large clothes brush out of her bag and began sweeping off the soot. "Fred said he saw you running off. Where on Earth did you go in such a hurry."

Harri gulped, feeling very awkward. How to not offend? "Well, you see…" she started. "I went ahead to buy the Lockhart books. For everyone."

Mrs. Weasley looked horrified.

"Harri, no-"

Harri cut her off. "I wanted to say thank you. For opening your home to me. And the fudge, from last Christmas. I… it was very kind of you. You didn't know me at all. But you were kind anyway. So… thank you."

Harri pushed the bag into Mrs. Weasley's arms.

"Harri, that is truly very sweet of you..." said Mr. Weasley, obviously trying to refuse.

"I want you to have them," Harri insisted. Her voice started to raise an octave. She was starting to feel distressed by her own choice. Harri knew perfectly well that Mr. and Mrs. Weasley weren't the types to accept such a gift.

They looked at each other, communicating silently. Harri could see Hermione and her parents pointedly looking in the other direction. The Weasly children all had looks of slight horror on their faces.

"Just.. please…" Harri finished.

"Well… if it means so much to you, then thank you," Mr. Weasley said.

"Yes, I suppose so… well… on to the bank, all," said Mrs. Weasley. If Harri wasn't mistaken she had watery eyes.

Harri fell in step with Hermione and Ron. Hermione had invited Neville along, but he couldn't make it. He and his grandmother were visiting St. Mungo's that day.

They all headed towards the bank, and while the Granger's exchanged money Harri went with the Weasely's down to the vaults. Harri felt justified, and more than a little sick, when she was the inside of the Weasley's vault. There was a small pile of silver Sickles inside and just one gold Galleon. Mrs. Weasley swept about half into her bag and gave Harri sidelong look that was tinged in relief. It would have taken every bit of that silver to buy the Lockhart books.

Harri felt nervous when they reached her vault, but didn't block the view of gold and silver from the Weasleys. She wanted Mrs. Weasley to know that it hadn't been a hardship of any kind for her to buy the books for them. While Harri felt shame at her own unearned fortune, she was glad that she had been able to use some of the 'blood money' to help her friends.

Back outside on the marble steps, they all separated. Percy muttered vaguely about needing a new quill. Fred and George had spotted their friend from Hogwarts, Lee Jordan. Mrs. Weasley and Ginny were going to get some of Ginny's supplies and wand.

"It's the big moment," Mrs. Weasley said looking at her youngest with glowing pride.

Mr. Weasley was insisting on taking the Grangers off to the Leaky Cauldron for a drink.

"We'll all meet at Flourish and Blotts in an hour to buy the rest of the books," said Mrs. Weasley, setting off with Ginny. "And not one step down Knockturn Alley!" she shouted at the twin's retreating backs.

"What's Knockturn Alley?" Harri asked Ron.

"I haven't heard of that," Hermione added.

"It's a dark wizard place," said Ron with a shrug. "The twins have been trying to sneak in for ages."

"There is a dark wizard Alley?" Hermione said with disgust.

"Well sure," said Ron. "That's how dark magic works."

Both Harri and Hermione looked confused. "It draws people in. You can't just get rid of it."

"Remus Lupin talked about that," Harri said.

"He did?" Ron asked with relief.

"Yeah, he kind of explained that Dark Lord isn't just a self-given title. That Voldemort was literally the Dark Lord. That he was the center of Dark magic and it called to all the dark magic users."

"It's not self-given?" Hermione asked at the same time that Ron replied, "You didn't know that?"

"Uuughghgh," Hermione growled from the back of her throat. "You wizards never explain ANYTHING!"

Ron just shrugged, once again unaware of all the knowledge he had just from growing up in the wizarding world.

"Will we ever catch up?" Harri asked Hermione.

"I intend to," said the bushy-haired girl grimly.

* * *

The three strolled off along the winding cobbled street. The bag of gold, silver, and bronze jangling cheerfully in Harri's pocket was clamoring to be spent, so she bought three large strawberry-and-peanut-butter ice creams, which they slurped happily as they wandered up the alley, examining the fascinating shop windows. Ron gazed longingly at a full set of Chudley Cannon robes in the window of Quality Quidditch Supplies until Hermione dragged them off to buy ink and parchment next door. In Gambol and Japes Wizarding Joke Shop, they met Fred, George, and Lee Jordan, who were stocking up on Dr. Filibuster's Fabulous Wet-Start, No-Heat Fireworks, and in a tiny junk shop full of broken wands, lopsided brass scales, and old cloaks covered in potion stains they found Percy, deeply immersed in a small and deeply boring book called Prefects Who Gained Power.

" _A Study of Hogwarts prefects and their later careers,_ " Ron read aloud off the back cover. "That sounds Fascinating…"

"Go away," Percy snapped.

"'Course, he's very ambitious, Percy, he's got it all planned out… He wants to be Minister of Magic…" Ron told Harri and Hermione in an undertone as they left Percy to it.

An hour later, they headed for Flourish and Blotts. There was a large crowd gathered around, and Harri groaned at the thought of Lockhart. He was making his big announcement, wasn't he?

"We can actually meet him!" Hermione squealed. "I mean, he's written almost the whole booklist!"

The crowd seemed to be made up mostly of witches around Mrs. Weasley's age. Harri just rolled her eyes. He was very fit. She would be blind not to see it. But something about his blond hair and overly straight teeth set Harri's nerves on edge.

The three squeezed inside. A long line wound right to the back of the shop, where Gilderoy Lockhart was signing his books. Harri was filled with relief that she had already bought all hers, and waiting with Ron and Hermione who grabbed their copies of _The Standard Book of Spells, Grade_ 2\. They sneaked up the line to where the rest of the Weasleys were standing with Mr. and Mrs. Granger.

"Oh, there you are, good," said Mrs. Weasley. She sounded breathless and kept patting her hair. It was a lightly frizzled bun, and Harri noticed that her cheeks were slightly flushed. "We'll be able to see him in a minute."

Gilderoy Lockhart came slowly into view, seated at a table surrounded by large pictures of his own face. It looked horribly ridiculous to Harri. They were all winking and flashing their dazzling white teeth. Harri poked Hermione in the ribs and whispered, "don't go weak-kneed. You'll be as bad as Parvati." Hermione just glared and clutched at her own copy of _Magic Me,_ ready for it to be signed.

A short irritable-looking man was dancing around taking photographs with a large black camera that emitted puffs of purple smoke with every blinding flash.

"Out of the way, there," he snarled at Ron, moving back to get a better shot. "This is for the Daily Prophet-"

"Big deal," said Ron, rubbing his foot where the photographer had stepped on it.

Gilderoy Lockhart heard him. He looked up. He saw Ron- and then he saw Harri. He stared. Then he lep to his feet and positively shouted. "It can't be Harriet Potter?"

Harri felt every eye of the bookshop on her. She tensed. No. Not here. Not in front of all these people. Her face was burning. Her magic was rushing in her ears. She didn't like the eyes. She didn't want to be noticed. Lockhart had dived forward and seized Harri's arm. The whole bookshop started to applaud.

Why? What was happening? Nothing of importance had occurred that merited applause!

"Nice big smile, Harriet," said Lockhart, through his own gleaming teeth. "Together, you and I are worth the front page."

Oh. That was what Lockhart was after. Harri suddenly knew exactly the type of person that Lockhart was. A fame hound.

When he finally let go of Harri's hand, Harri could hardly feel her fingers. She tried to sidle back over to the Weasleys, but Lockhart threw an arm around her shoulders and clamped her tightly to his side.

"Ladies and gentleman," he said loudly; waving for quiet. "What an extraordinary moment this is! The perfect moment for me to make a little announcement I've been sitting on for some time!"

"When young Harriet here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, she only wanted to buy my autobiography- which I shall be happy to present her now, free of charge-" The crowd applauded again. "She had no idea," Lockhart continued, giving Harri a little shake that made her glasses slip to the end of her nose, "that she would shortly be getting much, much, much more than my book, Magical Me . She and her schoolmates will, in fact, be getting the real magical me. Yes, ladies and gentleman, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that this September, I will be taking up the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!"

Harri had to stop herself from groaning. Oh, this was horrible. She and Snape had had their tiff. She had promised to help him research that stupid snake. And now Lockhart. Second year was looking to be not very promising.

The crowd cheered and clapped and Harri found herself being presented with the entire works of Gilderoy Lockhart. Staggering slightly under the weight, she managed to make her way out of the limelight to the edge of the room, where Hermione had moved to stand with Ginny.

"You have these," Harri said, pressing the books into Hermione's arms. "I've already bought mine."

"Bet you loved that, didn't you Potter?" said a voice Harri had no trouble recognizing. She straightened up and found herself face-to-face with Hermione's horrible soulmate, Draco Malfoy.

" Famous Harriet Potter," said Malfoy. "Can't even go into a bookshop without making the front page."

"Leave her alone, she didn't want all that!" said Ginny. It was a fierce defense, and Harri nearly glowed with how much of a backbone Ginny had. Her shyness had been melting away over the last week, and the spitfire Ron had described was making her appearance.

"Another member of the dream team I see," Malfoy said with a sneer, though it faltered as his eyes passed over Hermione. She was tanned from the summer and had filled out a bit. Harri noticed Malfoy's eyes linger over Hermione's figure.

"Go away," Hermione told him firmly.

"Oh, it's you," said Ron, who had fought his way over with signed copies of the books Harri had bought. "Bet you're surprised to see Harri here, eh?"

"Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley," retorted Malfoy. "I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for all those."

"Don't talk about things you don't understand," Harri snapped. Ron had gone red at Malfoy's remark.

Ron dumped his books into Ginny's cauldron and looked ready to throw a punch when they heard his father.

"Ron!" said Mr. Weasly, struggling over with Fred and George. "What are you doing? It's too crowded in here, let's go outside."

"Well, well, well- Arthur Weasley?"

It was Mr. Malfoy. He stood with his hand on Draco's shoulder, sneering in just the same way.

"Lucious," said Mr. Weasley, nodding coldly.

"Busy time at the Ministry, I hear," said Mr. Malfoy. "All those raids…. I hope they're paying you overtime?"

His eyes swept over the lot and paused on Hermione.

"Ah," he said giving her a look like she was mud on his shoe. "And this is… the girl is it Draco?" he asked his son.

Draco looked paler than usual. He didn't meet anyone's eyes as he said, "Yes."

"Hmm…" said Mr. Malfoy as he snagged a book from Hermione's arms to look. She looked horribly offended as he flipped through an advanced transfiguration text.

"You're right, one of those types that spends more times with books than learning social grace."

Harri was surprised to see Mr. Weasley step forward. "You'll find that this young woman is a boon to magic kind. You would do well to treat her as such."

"Dear me, a disgrace to wizards aren't you?" Malfoy sneered.

Mr. Weasley flushed darker than Harri had ever seen Ron, "We have a different idea of what disgraces the name of wizard, Malfoy," he said.

"Clearly," said Mr. Malfoy, his pale eyes straying to Mr. and Mrs. Granger, who were watching apprehensively. "This lot, they don't belong here. This girl, she never will."

There was a thud of metal as Ginny's cauldron went flying; Mr. Weasley had thrown himself at Mr. Malfoy, knocking him backward into a bookshelf. Dozens of heavy spellbooks came thundering down on all their heads; there was a yell of "Get him, Dad!" from Fred and George; Mrs. Weasley was shrieking, "No, Arthur, no"; the crowd stampeded backward, knocking more shelves over; "Gentleman, please- please!" cried the assistant, and then louder than all-

"Break it up, there, gents, break it up-" Hagrid had appeared.

Through it all, Harri had looked at Draco Malfoy. As his father spoke, Draco had looked at Hermione. Not with the cold hate that had always painted his face. But with fear. And frustration. And shame.

Hagrid broke up the fight, and Malfoy flung Hermione's book back to her. "Here, girl- take your book- maybe you'll become some semblance of a witch from it." Pulling himself out of Hagrid's grip he beckoned to Draco and swept from the shop.

Harri turned toward Hermione who had started to cry. "Excuse me, Mr. and Mrs. Granger. Do you mind if we go outside?" Harri asked her parents. The two muggles looked shaken but nodded their consent.

Harri grabbed Hermione's arm and pulled her from the shop. She rushed her into the side alley by the bookshop and hugged the girl tightly as thick sobs wracked Hermione's body.

"And I thought Draco was bad," she said between sobbing breaths.

"He's horrid. They're all horrid. Every Malfoy," Harri said, rubbing Hermione's back.

"I can't- I don't… why?"

"You're amazing Hermione." Harri whispered into her hair, "The best witch in our year."

They two stood for some time. Finally, Hermione stopped crying and stepped back from Harri. She looked down at the Transfiguration book still clutched in her arms. Then she did a very unHermione like thing and flung it to the ground.

A small thin book slid out. It had a shabby black cover.

Both girls stared at it in surprise.

"That wasn't there before," Hermione told Harri. Harri leaned down to pick it up.

Holding the diary, Harri could feel the magic coming off of it. Magic that felt achingly familiar. She had felt it in the forest and while facing down Quirrel. But surely that wasn't possible.

Surely this didn't have something to do with Vol...

What? What had she been thinking? Harri couldn't remember. She looked down at the diary, T.M Riddle stamped across the front.

Who was that?


	22. Memoriae: The Diary

The book felt heavy in Harri's pocket.

Unconsciously, she had slid it out of sight as the rest of the Weasleys filed out of Flourish and Blotts. Hermione, distracted by her parents, had turned away from Harri and the book. For some reason Harri couldn't explain she didn't want Hermione to see the diary again. Not until Harri had looked inside. Something felt… special about it.

Maybe it was alright for something to just be for Harri. Just this once.

The trip back to the Burrow was full of chatter about Mr. Weasley's brawl with Mr. Malfoy. Harri cheered with the rest of the boys, all agreeing that Mr. Malfoy had had it coming. Mrs. Weasley just sighed and argued that Arthur needing to control himself in public.

Harri went to bed before anyone else at the Burrow that night. While watching Fred and George recreate the altercation between Malfoy and Mr. Weasley was amusing, after the fifth time Harri was done. Also… also, Harri wanted to examine Riddle's book. She didn't want anyone to see it. She wanted it to be…. just Hers.

Harri sat on the pallet in Ginny's room and flicked through the blank pages, not one of which had a trace of ink on it. Then she turned it over. The back cover showed that it was from a variety store on Vauxhall Road, London.

"Why would a muggle diary be inside of a Transfiguration book?" Harri asked herself. She thought back on Hermione's altercation with Mr. Malfoy. He had held onto that book, hadn't he? Did he slip the diary into Hermione's textbook?

There was no mystery as to why he was taunting Hermione. He certainly hated her. Harri could still see Draco's face in her mind's eye. He had looked very uncomfortable. Had Draco Malfoy not wanted his father to talk to Hermione? Or had he not wanted Hermione to receive… this?

Harri turned the diary over again and looked at the front. T.M Riddle. Who was that? The diary felt very warm in her hand, and she could definitely feel magic on it. It felt… alive almost. It was very strange.

She opened it again, and taking out her wand, Harri cast ' Revelio'. Nothing happened.

Was it written in invisible ink?

"Aparecium "

Again, nothing.

Had Riddle gotten this diary and never bothered to fill it out? That didn't make sense. Why did the diary feel magical if it was from a muggle shop? It wasn't possible unless Riddle had done something to it.

Why had Mr. Malfoy given it to Hermione?

It didn't feel dangerous at all. The magic felt so familiar, almost like Harri's magic. Like a friend. She reached out tentatively, visualizing a tendril of magic, and touched the diary with it. The diary reacted at once. A matching tendril of magic reached out to greet her and latched on, almost like a handshake.

It felt… very nice. Like a warm caress.

"How do you work?" Harri asked herself, feeling a pleasant buzz from the magic mixing with her own.

She stared down at the blank first page of the diary in contemplation. Even if Riddle didn't use this diary, he had certainly enchanted it. Harri couldn't quite remember why she had felt hesitant about handling it before. It was certainly harmless.

With those thoughts in mind, Harri went to bed. The diary carefully clutched against her chest, their magic dancing together like two old friends.

By August 31st Harri had come no closer to figuring out the secrets of the little book. Every spell she tried did nothing. Not a thing appeared. What had developed was that Harri was loath to let the diary out of her grasp. She carefully hid it in her pockets or in the waistband of her shorts, unwilling to let it be seen but unable to leave it somewhere. The comforting magic was like a balm to her soul, constantly caressing and mixing with her own magic. She felt like she was flying all the time, it was a constant and exhilarating rush.

What wasn't a rush was the fact that Harri would be returning to Hogwarts a day before everyone else to the tender care of Severus Snape.

She had thought of Snape often over the last two weeks. She was still frustrated and angry at him. Almost unbearably so. Yet… her mother had wanted Snape to care for her. It had been in her will. Wouldn't her mother have known that Snape was a Dark Wizard?

Harri wished that there was someone else she could talk to. Another friend of her mothers. There wasn't anyone else though. Remus had mentioned that her mother had only really been friends with Alice Longbottom.

"They doubt she'll ever be well," Remus had explained sadly. "I'm glad you're friends with their boy. Frank and Alice were the best of people. Just like your parents."

Harri only had Snape for information about her mother's intentions. She wasn't sure how much she could trust the man and wasn't sure if her mother had misplaced her trust completely.

"There is still Dumbledore," Harri thought. She wasn't sure if she trusted Dumbledore either. The man who knew so much, but didn't want to tell her any of it.

"Sometimes it feels like the entire world if moving too fast, and I am standing still in it," Harri thought.

She nearly screamed when she heard a soft voice answer in her head, "I know what you mean."

"What?" Harri exclaimed out loud. She was alone in Ginny's room, packing her trunk before returning to Hogwarts.

There was no one else in the room.

Even softer than before, the same voice, "The book… write…."

Harri could feel the magic of the diary pulsing from her jean pocket. The tendril of magic that seemed to constantly be playing with her own was much weaker than usual as if it had used a great deal of energy.

Energy to talk in her mind? That shouldn't be possible, but she was willing to put that aside because an answer on what the book was for seemed to be presenting itself.

The book… the book wanted her to write in it?

"Yes," she heard, like a whispering caress.

Harri jumped at a knock on the door, Mrs. Weasley bustled in with clean laundry.

"Later," she thought, pushing magic towards the little book. It hummed in approval.

Harri flooed back to the Headmaster's office. Waiting for her were Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore looking serene, Snape had a scowl.

"Ah, Harri" Dumbledore began with a smile. "Right on time. Your guardian and I were just discussing your disappearance."

"Remus explained it, sir, I know that normally I would have been splinched or just destroyed the potions lab." Already Harri felt on edge. She had left with Burrow with no small amount of trepidation, but she was amazed at how quickly conflict was looming. There was still soot on her cloak.

"Ah… yes," Dumbledore said, looking over at Snape who only looked annoyed.

"We've discussed controlling your magic, Harriet," he told her firmly. No apology, no explanation. Just right to her magical control.

She wanted to feel rage, but couldn't bring herself to it. Her magic didn't feel as active as it usually did when Snape made comments like that. Maybe she was gaining control after all? Funny, she hadn't practiced her Occlumency at all at the Weasley's.

"I'll work on it," she told him flippantly.

"You could have been seriously injured," Snape continued. "You could hurt someone if you lose control like that in class."

"I highly doubt I'll lose control like that again," she told him with a glare. "It's not every day that you're given new information about your parent's death."

Her magic made a weak swirl around the room but faded away quickly.

Dumbledore coughed, "Yes, well. Enough of that I think."

Harri turned her glare on the old Headmaster.

"You have every right to be angry, Harri," he told her meeting her glare with his clear blue eyes.

She didn't want understanding from either of them. She didn't want Snape's anger and worry. She didn't want Dumbledore's concern and understanding smile. She just wanted to be upset, to be right, to be away.

She wanted to break everything.

But nothing broke. Instead, she felt the diary reach out for her with a calming tendril of magic, and sooth away all the rough edges of her misery. Everything was okay, everything was fine. She would move past it.

Harri looked down at the floor, not wanting to meet either of their eyes anymore. "I don't want to talk. I just want to go to my room. In Gryffindor tower."

Dumbledore began to protest, but Snape cut in. "I thought as much. One night alone in the tower won't do you harm. Go. But I expect you down in the Dungeons on Friday evening. You're grounded."

"WHAT?" Her head snapped up, anger filling her once again. "I didn't do anything wrong and you know it!"

"Until you learn to control your magic, there will be consequences. This time didn't have any obvious physical ones, but next time there will be. You will spend the foreseeable Fridays helping me with the Runespoor."

"You were going to make me do that anyway," Harri said.

"Yes, originally as a good potionineering exercise. That you complained endlessly about. Clearly, it works just as well as a punishment."

"Fine," Harri bit out, and stomped over to the door to the staircase, dragging her heavy trunk behind her.

"Oh just leave it," Snape snapped. "I'll have a house-elf bring it to the tower. No need to martyr yourself."

She wasn't martyring herself. She wasn't. Why did he have to insult her at every turn? He was so horrible. Hadn't the summer started off so well? Then he'd had to go and ruin it.

"Harri," Dumbledore began, seeing the look of hurt that flashed across her face. But Harri didn't stop, she slammed the door and began down the staircase. How was it that the day had started so well with Ron and his family? They didn't make her churlish. They all seemed to like her. But one moment with Snape and it was like she couldn't stop fighting.

The diary's magic caressed her gently, and she felt her rage simmer away. It was alright, she'd be alone in Gryffindor tower. She didn't need to talk to Snape again tonight. It would just be Harri and the little black book in her pocket.

Harri knew with a certainty that she couldn't explain that if she wrote in the diary it would write her back.

Harri sat on her four-poster bed in the empty Gryffindor tower. She pulled a bottle of ink out of her trunk, dipped her quill into it, and dropped a blot onto the first page of the diary.

The ink shone brightly on the paper for a second and then as though it was being sucked into the page, vanished. Excited, Harri loaded her quill a second-time and wrote, "My name is Harriet Potter." handwriting

The words shone momentarily on the page and they, too, sank without trace. The magic around her buzzed.

Oozing back out of the page, in her own ink, came words Harri had never written. It was a pristine hand, clinical and male. It was some of the best handwriting Harri had ever seen.

"Hello, Harriet Potter. My name is Tom Riddle. How did you come by my diary?"

These words, too, faded away, but not before Harri had started to scribble back.

"You were in my friend's transfiguration book. I think her soulmate's father put you there."

"That's very strange. Who is her soulmate's father?"

"I don't know his first name," Harri wrote back. "He's a Malfoy though."

"Ahh, well I know someone from that family."

"You do?"

"Yes, though from when I was in school. This diary was meant to be a record of my time at Hogwarts."

"I'm at Hogwarts now. Term starts tomorrow."

"Does it? Why are you there already? What year is it, if you don't mind my asking."

"1992, and I'm an orphan. My guardian is one of the professors."

"I am an orphan as well."

It was a very direct statement. Though looking at her own fading words, Harri realized that she had been very direct about it as well. She paused in her writing, and the diary began again before she did.

"It is good for you though, to be at the school instead. I had to return to an orphanage each summer. It was… unpleasant."

"They take it more seriously now, I think," Harri confided. "My relatives weren't the good sort. My entire childhood was unpleasant."

"I can relate," the diary replied.

"When were you at the school?" Harri asked.

"1938 was when I started. My memories extend till 1943."

"Why not until 1945?" Harri asked, doing the math.

"A terrible thing occurred in my fifth year. I wanted the truth preserved."

"So you're like a pensieve?"

"Yes, a bit like that."

"You must have been very good a magic then, to make something like this in your fifth year."

"I was always top of my year, yes."

"My friend Hermione, the one whose Transfiguration book you were in, she's like that."

"I must ask, Harriet, why would her soulmate's father try to give me to her?"

"I don't know," Harri replied, thinking hard. Her suspicions of the diary seemed far removed now. It wasn't harmful. "He doesn't like her. She's muggle born."

"That does explain a few things, the Malfoy I knew was not very friendly to muggleborns or half-bloods."

"Yes, well after the war I think most of that has died down."

"There was a war?"

"It ended about ten years ago."

"Not Grindelwald still?"

"Oh no, that ended in 1945. Same as the big muggle war."

"So a new Dark Lord?" Tom asked. Harri could feel the diary's magic buzzing in excitement. It was… odd.

"Yes. His name was Voldemort." Magic practically leapt around the diary.

"Please, Harriet. Tell me everything."

"There isn't much to tell anymore," Harri lied. She hated to talk about Voldemort.

"A little history, please? I've been alone for so long. I've been left in the dark on all the happenings of the Wizarding World."

"Well…." Harri began, blotting horribly with her quill. "Okay."

"It goes like this, back in 1970 there was a wizard gaining power. He was the new Dark Lord, the first one since Grindelwald. He had followers called Death Eaters and all sorts of Dark Wizards and Witches following him. They used blackmail and all sorts of curses to gain a foothold at the Ministry. But there was a group of Light Witches and Wizards to fight back. I know Dumbledore was the leader."

"Dumbledore was the one to defeat Grindelwald, wasn't he?" the diary asked. "He was a Professor in my day."

"Yes he was, and he's considered the leader of the Light I think. But he… and my parents and several others they fought against the rising dark."

"So you are a child of light, Harriet Potter? That is interesting. Your magic feels very similar to my own. I wouldn't have thought… but you are a war orphan then?"

Harri almost felt uneasy, but something stopped her from worrying too much. He was just asked questions, nothing to worry about. It was fine and normal, there was no reason to worry. Tom was just wondering what happened while he was in the diary. A lot of history missed. So much time had passed. Nothing to worry about.

"Yes. My parents were killed by Lord Voldemort."

"Do you know why?"

She wanted to stop writing, but she felt the quill start scratching anyway. "It had something to do with me."

She wasn't imagining, she could feel magic pouring off the diary. Tom… was he, it, excited? Tom seemed excited.

"You?" was all he asked.

"Yes. For some reason, and I don't really know why, when I was a baby he decided he needed to kill me."

"You survived a Dark Lord?"

"Yes."

"How?"

"I don't know. But for whatever reason, his power broke. He disappeared, and no one heard from him for a decade."

"But he's been heard from since. He's not dead." Tom seemed very sure about this.

"No. I heard from him."

"You again, Harriet Potter. Do you know why now?"

"Well, he was looking for a Stone, the Philosopher's Stone."

"For immortal life."

"I think he needed a body. But before he could get it, I stopped him."

"HOW?"

She really wanted to stop now. Her quill kept moving. He didn't need to know any of this. Why was she telling him? But it was not something to worry about. He was just curious. Whoever heard of a young girl stopping a Dark Lord. Anyone would be curious, there was no reason to worry.

"I don't know. Dumbledore says it has to do with my mother's sacrifice. But…" she forced her quill to a stop. She wouldn't tell him this. She couldn't tell him this. But it was alright. Tom could be trusted with her secrets. He was just a diary, just a memory. It wouldn't hurt to tell him.

"But?"

"But he's my soulmate. So I think it has something to do with that."

There was a roaring in her ears like the wind rushing all around her.

"Tell me, Harriet Potter," Tom wrote. "Did you call the Dark Lord Voldemort a liar?"

Harriet froze. She felt icy all over. He couldn't know that. The trance that she had been in broke. Voldemort. The magic felt like Voldemort. This was Voldemort. Somehow she was talking to a preserved memory of Vol-

She couldn't think. Harri felt like she was floating. Magic all around her, and like she was safe. No need for anger or worry. Everything would be alright. She looked back down at the diary in her lap. There were words being written on the page. How nice.

"Harriet, I'm afraid that my plans will have to wait with you. Our time together has been very illuminating, but I just can't risk hurting you, my dear."

That was very kind of Tom, she should tell him so.

"Thank you, but what do you mean, hurt me?"

"In time I'll explain it to you. You see, I need a little help. But it's very dangerous. And I just can't risk you, Harriet. Not when you can help me so much more later on. "

"Oh, that makes sense," Harri wrote back.

"Yes. So what you need to do Harriet is go down to the first year dorm. I want you to leave me in the nightstand of one of those girls. Then I want you to forget all about this diary and go to sleep. I'll help you remember me later."

"Okay, that sounds like a good plan Tom. But wouldn't a first year get hurt too?"

"Oh no, nothing like that. You don't need to worry Harriet."

She didn't, did she?

Harri stood on shaky legs. She needed to go down to the first year dorm. Someone had asked her to. Harri felt herself shakily climbing down the staircase a level until she found the door. She groped blindly in the dark for the handle.

Several beds were perched in the room, but she chose one to the far left. The little book slid easily into the drawer of the nightstand, and then still stumbling, Harri returned to her own dorm room.

She was so tired. It was late, and she really needed to go to bed. Snape would probably want to talk again in the morning. Not to mention she would be seeing Ron, Neville, and Hermione tomorrow. It would be an excellent day, wouldn't it?

Goodness, she hadn't been this tired in ages.

Harri pulled back her covers and climbed into bed. She was quickly asleep, all thoughts of Tom Riddle blissfully pushed into the depths of her mind.


	23. Memoriae: Dobby's Warning

Harri woke up to two bulging green eyes the size of tennis balls staring at her. She managed not to shout, but it was a close thing. Instead, she pushed herself back against the headboard and brandished her wand. Gulliver, her cat who had somehow managed to realize she was back at the castle, was purring quietly at the foot of the bed. Harri figured that the creature was probably alright if Gulliver wasn't bothered.

"Who- why- hello?" Harri stammered, realizing that she was looking at a house-elf. They usually made a point of not being seen by students.

The elf bowed so low that the end of its long, thin, nose touched the carpet. Harri noticed that it was wearing what looked like an old pillowcase, with rips for arm-and-leg holes.

"Harriet Potter!" said the elf in a high-pitched voice. "So long has Dobby wanted to meet you, madame… Such an honor it is…"

"Th-thank you," said Harri, edging out of bed and pulling on her bathrobe. "Er- if you don't mind my asking- do you need something? I thought the elves avoided students."

The elf lowered its ears, "Dobby is not an elf of this most esteemed school, Harriet Potter ma'am."

"Then why are you here, Dobby?" Harri had never heard of an elf randomly appearing like this.

"Dobby has come to tell you… it is difficult… Dobby wonders where to begin…"

"Sit down," said Harri politely, pointing at her unmade bed.

To her horror, the elf burst into tears.

" _S-sit down!_ " he wailed. " _Never… never ever…_ "

Gulliver hopped off the bed and made a hasty retreat under the bed, annoyed at the noisy elf disturbing his morning sleep.

"I'm sorry," Harri tried, "I didn't mean to offend you or anything-"

"Offend Dobby!" chocked the elf. "Dobby has _never_ been asked to sit down by a witch-like an _equal-"_

Harri, trying to look comforting to the strange creature was struck by the statement. "But Dobby, you're clearly an intelligent being. Of course you're equal." She was ushering Dobby onto the bed where he sat hiccoughing looking like a large and very ugly doll. At last, he managed to control himself and sat with his great eyes fixed on Harri in an expression of watery adoration.

"I'm sure you just haven't met many decent witches," said Harri, trying to make a poor joke of the awkward situation. Why was this elf here exactly?

Dobby shook his head. Then, without warning, he lept up and started banging his head furiously on the stone wall, shouting, " _Bad_ Dobby! _Bad_ Dobby!"

"Don't- what are you doing?" Harri exclaimed, trying to pull the elf away from the wall. Gulliver let out a low hiss from under the bed.

"Dobby had to punish himself, ma'am," said the elf, who had gone slightly cross-eyed. "Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, ma'am…"

"The family that you serve?"

"Yes. I'll be bound to that family forever," said the elf very sadly.

"Do they know you're here?" asked Harri curiously.

Dobby shuddered.

"Oh, no, ma'am, no… Dobby will have to punish himself most grievously for coming to see you, ma'am. Dobby will have to shut his ears in the oven door for this. If they ever knew, ma'am-"

"But won't they notice if you shut your years in the oven door? And really Dobby, please don't. You shouldn't have to… to MUTILATE yourself!"

"They won't notice. Dobby is always having to punish himself for something. They let Dobby get on with it, ma'am. Sometimes they remind me to do extra punishments."

"Dobby that's horrible. Isn't there somebody you could appeal to? This sounds abusive. Wrong. Clearly a violation of your rights."

Dobby's eyes welled with tears. "House-elves do not have rights."

"Then leave, escape!"

"A house-elf must be set free, ma'am. Or sold. And the family will never set Dobby free… Dobby will serve the family until he dies."

Harris stared.

"And I thought I had it bad staying with my relatives. No wonder Snape said they treated me like a house-elf. Who is your family Dobby, I have money, maybe I could buy you from them?"

Dobby sprung up again and began to weep uncontrollably in a heap on the floor. "Surely not. They would not… "

"Oh, please calm down! I'm sorry if I'm saying the wrong things! I just wanted to help you. Can I?"

"Harriet Potter asks if she can help Dobby… Dobby has heard of your greatness, but of your goodness, Dobby never knew!"

Harri, who was feeling distinctly hot in the face, said, "Whatever you've heard about my greatness is a load of rubbish. I'm not even top of my year. That's Hermione."

"Harriet Potter is humble and modest," said Dobby reverently, his orb-like eyes aglow. "Harriet Potter speaks not of her triumph over He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named."

"Voldemort?" asked Harri.

Voldemort. Why did something feel wrong? Harri felt like she had missed a step walking down a staircase. It was like an itch she couldn't scratch.

Dobby clapped his hands over his bat ears and moaned, "Ah, speak not the name, ma'am. Speak not the name."

"Sorry," said Harri quickly. "I know lots of people don't like it. My friends Ron and Neville hate when I use the name."

"Dobby heard tell," he said hoarsely, "that Harriet Potter met the Dark Lord for a second time, just months ago… that Harriet Potter escaped _yet again_."

"Something like that," Harri muttered.

"Ah," gasped Dobby, dabbing his face with a corner of the grubby pillowcase he was wearing. "Harriet Potter is valiant and bold! She has braved so many dangers already! But Dobby has come to protect Harriet Potter, to warn her, even if he _does_ have to shut his ears in the oven door later… _Harriet Potter must leave Hogwarts_. This place is not safe for you."

"W-what?" Harri stammered. "But I've just come back. I've nowhere else to go."

"No, no, no," squeaked Dobby, shaking his head so hard his ears flapped. "Harriet Potter must go where she is safe. She is too great, too good, to lose. If Harriet Potter stays at Hogwarts, she will be in mortal danger."

Danger… hadn't someone else said something about danger? Getting hurt?

"Why?" asked Harri, feeling as if she had forgotten something very important.

"There is a plot, Harriet Potter. A plot to make most terrible things happen at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry this year," whispered Dobby, suddenly trembling all over. "Dobby has known for months, and Dobby knows that it has already started!"

"Then come with me to see the Headmaster," Harri insisted earnestly. "If something horrible is going to happen then help me tell him. We can stop it."

Dobby made a funny choking noise and then banged his head frantically against the floor again.

"No, please, stop Dobby! Don't hurt yourself. Why are you hurting yourself?"

"It is the magic that binds me, Harriet Potter."

"That's barbaric."

Dobby blinked salty tears into the stone. "It cannot be helped. Dobby knows that his pain is worth saving Harriet Potter."

"Can you tell me any more about the plot?" Harri asked gently, placing a hand on the elf's shoulder.

Dobby shook his head.

"Has this got to do with Vol- sorry- with You-Know-Who? Just shake or nod." Dobby's head tilted worryingly close to the wall again.

"Not- not He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named, ma'am," but Dobby's eyes were wide and he seemed to be trying to give Harri a hint. Harri, still feeling like she was missing something, was completely lost.

Not Voldemort. Then who? For some reason, the Malfoy family came to mind. Lucious Malfoy… and trying to hurt Hermione?

"Could you come with me so I could tell Dumbledore these things? You do know who Dumbledore is, don't you?"

"Albus Dumbledore is the greatest headmaster Hogwarts has ever had. Dobby knows it, ma'am. Dobby has heard Dumbledore's powers as the Light Lord rival those of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named at the height of his strength. But-" Dobby's voice dropped to an urgent whisper- "there are powers Dumbledore doesn't… powers no decent wizard…"

And before Harri could stop him, Dobby bounded off the bed to the bedside table. He stuck his hand into the drawer and slammed it hard. There was a crunching sound. Harri let out a little scream, but the elf only let out a little yelp.

"Please, you need to stop hurting yourself. I promise Hogwarts is the only place I can go. I have friends here… my guardian is here."

"Friends who don't even _write_ to Harriet Potter?" said Dobby slyly.

"Yes, something has gone wrong with my post- wait a minute," said Harri, frowning. "How do you know my friends haven't been writing to me?"

Dobby shuffled his feet.

"Harriet Potter mustn't be angry with Dobby. Dobby did it for the best-"

Harri sighed in frustration. "You've been stoping my post. Do you have my letters? I would like them back."

"Harriet Potter mustn't be angry… Dobby hoped… if Harriet Potter thought her friends had forgotten her… Harriet Potter might not want to go back to school…"

"Magic is the best thing I've ever experienced," Harri told Dobby. "Learning how to use it has been the first real joy in my life. I would never leave Hogwarts, Dobby."

Dobby's ears lowered. "You are in such danger," the elf said sadly.

"I will always be in danger, Dobby. I can't tell you why… but the Dark Lord will always be after me. He won't ever stop. I have to learn. If I don't… I think very bad things could happen in this world. If you can just give me what information you have, I will be in your debt. But I won't leave Hogwarts."

"Dobby has said all that he can," said the elf sadly. "Dobby supposes that it is Harriet Potter's choice. But Dobby will try to help if he can. For Harriet Potter is too good."

"Thank you for the warnings Dobby. Can you stay for breakfast?"

The elf shook his head. "Dobby will be missed soon. Dobby will need to punish himself for being late with mistress's tea. Be safe Harriet Potter."

And with a small pop, the elf disappeared, a pile of letters left behind where he had stood.

Gulliver eventually came out from under the bed, and Harri scratched the cat's head while she read through her belated post.

She should probably be telling Snape about this encounter, but Harri didn't feel like she could face the curmudgeon yet. She really just wanted to crawl back into bed. In the excitement of the morning Harri hadn't noticed her headache, but now that Dobby was gone and her adrenalin was down, Harri felt sick and achy.

She couldn't remember the last time she had caught a cold. It wasn't even cold season yet. Maybe she'd go back to bed for a little while, and then go find Snape.

Yes, that seemed like a good plan.

With a cat on her stomach, Harri fell asleep again and didn't wake until noon.

* * *

Harri made her way down to her rooms with Snape after she had woken up again. She still felt exhausted but figured a pepper up potion and a good meal might solve that. The Great Hall was empty, which left Snape as the ideal location for food.

She didn't knock when she entered, attempting for a blase attitude. Snape was at his desk, pouring over a lesson plan. The Runepoor was lazing on the heated stone that had been enchanted for it, and looked up when Harri entered.

" _Furry!"_ exclaimed the middle head.

" _Hello,"_ Harri hissed back to the snake. " _Sorry to have been away for so long. How have you been?"_

" _Horrible,_ " hissed the critical head that was now carefully protected with a cone.

" _You look like you've grown, so it can't be too bad._ "And indeed the snake looked like it had grown another foot.

" _There wasn't anyone to talk to,_ " hissed the snake grumpily.

" _He likes to be interviewed I think_ ," said the planning head.

" _I will be with you every Friday, apparently._ "

" _What is Friday?_ " asked the middle head.

" _It's a way to mark time. Like the sun,"_ Harri tried to explain.

"Did it tell you anything new?" Snape asked, interrupting the conversation.

"I think it's just bored," Harri replied.

"Well, you should come around more and talk to it. Or ask it if it would like a friend, if it needs company," Snape said, looking at the snake thoughtfully. The Runespoor looked like it was going to fall asleep again soon.

"It would probably just eat another snake," Harri told him. "And believe it or not, snakes aren't very interesting to talk to all the time."

Snape rolled his eyes. "You've been blessed by a gift that most potion masters would kill for. And all you can say is that snakes don't have interesting things to say." He motioned to the table where lunch was laid out. He had already eaten, but the elves had brought food for Harri too. She tucked in.

"Did Voldemort say that snakes were interesting conversationalists?"

Snape glared at her. "Of course not. He had his snakes eat people he didn't like." Harri blanched. The mental image made her stomach roll with nausea. Or maybe that was her new illness. She pushed the plate away, mostly untouched.

"Well speaking of evil people," she began, "a house-elf came to see me today. He told me there is a terrible plot at Hogwarts that puts me in mortal peril."

Snape looked surprised and then scowled.

"Of course you're in mortal peril, aren't you always?"

"Yes, well the house-elf was nice enough to warn me this time."

"What did it say exactly?"

"Just that it wasn't Voldemort and that he was certain I would be hurt this year. He couldn't say more without punishing himself."

"That means that the elf's family must be involved somehow. Sending the elf might have been a trick. Or a prank… but we shouldn't treat it that way. We should take any threat on your life as serious."

"I don't think it was a trick. He… well, he was constantly hurting himself. He seemed abused. I wish I knew who his family was, I'd offer to help him."

"There isn't anything you can do Harriet. A family will never sell a house elf. It's considered a sign that they don't have money. Old families will kill their elves before letting them be sold."

Harri stared at Snape with a look of pure horror. "And everyone is just okay with this? They're clearly… well, I don't know if I have the right word... Sentient? Human-ish? Intelligent. Why isn't there legislation protecting them?"

"For the same reason there isn't legislation protecting werewolves, centaurs, or merepeople. It isn't convenient, and the Ministry has more to gain by not passing any legislation."

"Isn't the whole point of government to protect and serve its people?"

"Harriet, I don't think now is the moment to get into a debate about civic duties. Come, up to the Headmaster. Let's see if we can figure out anything about this threat. I imagine there will be a pensieve involved."

There was. One memory extraction later and Harri was watching her visit with Dobby alongside Snape and Dumbledore. Furrows of concern were etched on both their brows.

"You should have come right away Harriet, why did you go back to bed?" Snape asked.

"I don't know," Harri confessed. "I was really tired. I can't explain it. I just feel… empty."

The Headmaster gave her a serious look, and Harri felt a soft brush of his magic reaching out for her. The sensation was familiar, even though she couldn't remember ever mixing magic like this.

Harri mustered a weak response and, for lack of a better description, shook magical hands with Dumbledore. His magic was very separate from hers. It felt light and airy, yet also charged with exponential energy.

"You are magically drained, Harri," Dumbledore told her. "That is why you were exhausted. Do you have a headache? Or were you sick after eating today?"

"How could she be magically drained?" Snape asked.

"Yes," Harri replied, feeling like she was missing something. She felt foggy, like her mind wouldn't focus. "Something is… wrong I think. With my head."

"Would you mind, Harri, if Severus looked to see your last couple days of memory?"

Harri felt herself react violently, pivoting away from Dumbledore and Snape while a guttural "NO" escaped her.

She blinked owlishly. What? Why would she care about that? Snape had looked into her head several times. She looked between the two men feeling very confused, and then was violently sick on the Headmaster's rug.

Harri felt cold and clammy. "I don't know what's wrong," she confessed. Her vision had trouble focusing, but she felt a soothing hand on her brow and made out concerned black eyes before everything went black.

* * *

 _Apparently just forgetting wasn't enough_

What? Everything was dark. Her eyes felt so heavy. She felt her magic like a comforting blanket around her.

 _Silly girl_ said a voice with a strange hint of fondness. _Running off to Dumbledore._

Had she? She didn't think she had. It was supposed to be about Dobby. Dobby and his warning.

 _Don't worry Harri-dear, I'll hide myself. You don't need to worry about them finding me in your mind._

Worry about them finding who? This voice... it sounded so familiar but she couldn't place it. What a strange dream.

 _Our magic really is so similar, you know. It's like the same note on a different octave. If anyone goes to look, all of me is cloaked in your magic. Hidden away in the back of the cupboard if you will._

You like music? It was all that she could grasp. That's nice. Wizards never know anything about music. But... now that she thought on it this voice was probably just her own imagination in a dream.

 _That's one way to think of me I suppose._

I wish I stopped blacking out. It's embarrassing.

 _You should stop overtaxing your magical core. I took too much last night I think._

Don't take any more then.

 _I wasn't planning to. That job will go to someone else now._

Why did you need my magic?

 _It made me strong. I'm far stronger now than I would have been otherwise, from some other witch's magic. It was YOURS Harri._

Mine is nothing special.

 _Quite to the contrary my dear, let me assure you_.

* * *

Harri woke in the Hospital Wing. Snape was sitting in the chair by her bedside reading a manuscript. He glanced over at her when she let out a little moan, and set the aged parchment down.

"You have severe magical depletion," he told her bluntly. Harri sat up as best she could in the bed. She felt very weak.

"That doesn't make sense," Harri said hoarsely. "I didn't do anything that could cause it."

"You're right, it doesn't. We saw your encounter with the house-elf. I would normally accuse it of doing something to you… but I took the memory myself. It was not a tampered memory."

"Then what?"

"Harriet, I need you to focus on last night in Gryffindor Tower and look me in the eye." Her first instinct was to pull away, but she fought it. She tried, but remembering was like water on glass. Harri couldn't remember anything. At any wisp of memory, it seemed to float away before she could grab at it.

"You're shaking," Snape observed, taking her hand. She pulled it away and watched it tremble with a detached sort of frustration.

"I can't remember. I don't know what's wrong."

"I think a calming draught and more sleep will do you good."

"What's wrong with my memory? With my magic?" Snape pushed a vial into her hand. She was shaking so violently, that she couldn't manage the stopper. She tried to breathe, but it came out in choking gasps.

Gentle hands on her own, a voiced charm, and Harri was breathing on a distinct pattern. Snape's forehead was against her own. He counted out her breaths, matching her with each one.

They stayed like that longer than the last time Snape had done this to her. Eventually, her trembling subsided. Snape uncorked the vial and handed it to her. With only a hint of a tremble, Harri took the potion. It wasn't immediate, but she felt some measure of calm return to her.

"Will I be able to go to the feast tonight?"

"No. Madame Pomfrey wants you to stay here for the night. I agree with her, Harriet. You need to rest and get your energy stores back up. We've no idea why you're like this, but you shouldn't cast any spells until your core has stabilized."

"That's so unfair. I'll miss the sorting. I'll miss Hermione, Ron, and Neville! They'll worry about me." Even as she said it Harri began to lay back down. She did feel too tired to go anywhere.

He grimaced. "If it makes you feel better, I will let them know that you are ill."

"That does. Thanks."

They sat in silence for a few moments, Harri blinking longer and more slowly. She was close to sleep when Snape said, "I apologize. About your birthday. Not just that, for everything, Harriet. You should have known about it all before I let you chose me as your guardian."

"You should have," Harri agreed sleepily. "But… It's not like there is anyone else."

"There will always be others who would take you in, Harriet. You can choose someone else if you'd like."

"No…" and she was drifting away again. In her mind, she thought, 'No, you're who mum wanted', 'No, you know what to do when I can't control my magic', and 'No, you're the closest thing to family I have."

Maybe Snape understood because he didn't let go of her hand. Its steady grasp felt like an anchor as she drifted in and out of consciousness. A line from a children's book resurfaced from years ago, "Outside the sea enfolds the sand, inside I hold my father's hand." Her breathing evened, and eventually she fell into true sleep.


	24. Memoriae: Gilderoy Lockhart

The next day, Harri could barely keep her eyes open. She was released from the Hospital Wing under strict orders to not cast any spells. As she stumbled into the Great Hall for breakfast, she was greeted with a cheer from the second year Gryffindors.

Hermione sprinted over to Harri and greeted her with a tight hug. "Oh, I'm glad you're out of the Hospital Wing. Professor Snape said you were ill, and not a thing more! He looked sour at the feast last night and wouldn't stop scowling," she explained. "We were so worried! Ron was convinced that he had started to poison you."

The two girls sat down at the table across from Ron and Neville.

"I don't think he's that mad at me about my apparition act," Harri told Ron.

Hermione rolled her eyes, "Honestly, I still can't believe that you did something like that. It's supposed to be impossible you know. I read all about the apparition wards in-"

"Hogwarts a History," finished Ron, Neville, and Harri in a chorus.

"Which you should all read!"

"Why bother when we have you?" asked Ron.

Hermione scowled and the two began to bicker about responsibility.

"How are you feeling, Harri?" Neville asked.

"I'm alright, just a bit tired," Harri replied. "How was your summer, Neville?"

"It was really good. I got to spend a lot of time with Mum and Dad. We picked right back up."

"That's really great!"

"Mail's due any minute- I think Gran's sending a few things I forgot," Neville continued cheerfully.

"Any idea what you forgot?" Harri asked her accident-prone friend.

"So far I've just noticed my quills and three of Lockhart's books."

"You'll need two owls to carry all that," Ron told him, turning away from Hermione. "Those things are bricks. Have you read them? Complete tosh."

"I think he's rather brilliant," Hermione said with slightly flushed cheeks.

"Not to mention he's so handsome to look at," Lavender added from next to Hermione. Lavender Brown as a pretty girl who had gotten more full-figured over the summer. Harri noticed that both Ron and Neville had snuck looks at her chest.

"I did my hair especially nice," added Parvati Patil. "I wonder if he'll notice?"

"You shouldn't want him to notice. He's old," Harri told her three roommates.

"No he's not!" exclaimed Parvati. "He's so handsome and brave. Can you imagine doing all those things that he's written about?"

"Well I'm sure Harri can," said Lavender. "But for the rest of us, he's a hero come to life."

Harri shook her head and started on her porridge. The owls streamed in, and sure enough, Neville received a large lumpy package containing quills, three books, and his potions scale.

"Didn't even notice I had forgotten it," said Neville cheerfully.

Hermione, who had started reading _Voyages with Vampires_ , looked disapprovingly at Neville. "You should start to make lists of everything and run through a checklist before you leave home."

"Hermione, it's fine really. Gran always finds what I need," Neville said with a shrug.

"One day you may forget something important!"

"Well sure, I might," said Neville. "But life will go on. There are more important things to remember you know. Like asking Harri how she feels after a night in the Hospital Wing," he turned to look at Harri.

Ron and Hermione both flushed, realizing they had forgotten to ask her how she was feeling. "Just run down I think. Magical depletion for some reason. OH. And tonight I do have something to tell you three."

"New mystery already?" Ron asked rubbing his hands together. "Excellent. I figured it would take you at least a month to find trouble."

"You know that it's trouble that finds me," Harri joked.

The four friends left the castle together, crossed the vegetable patch, and made for the greenhouses, where the magical plants were kept. As they neared the greenhouses they saw the rest of the class standing outside, waiting for Professor Sprout. Harri, Ron, Hermione, and Neville had only just joined them when she came striding into view across the lawn, accompanied by Gilderoy Lockhart.

Professor Sprout was a squat little witch who wore a patched hat over her flyaway hair; there was usually a large amount of earth on her clothes and her fingernails would have made Aunt Petunia faint. Gilderoy Lockhart, however, was immaculate in sweeping robes of turquoise, his golden hair shining under a perfectly positioned turquoise hat with gold trimming.

Lavender and Parvati both sighed in admiration.

"Do you think he looks like that while fighting the forces of darkness," Harri whispered to Hermione.

"Shush," Hermione hissed, not taking the bait of Harri's mockery.

"Oh hello there!" Lockhart called, beaming around at the assembled students. "I was just telling Professor Sprout the proper way to handle Mandrakes. She mentioned you would be handling them today. But I don't want you running away with the idea that I'm better at Herbology than she is! I just happen to have used these exotic plants on my travels…"

Neville glared at the man who would dare to imply that he knew more than Sprout, his personal hero.

"Greenhouse three today, chaps!" Professor Sprout called. She looked disgruntled, not at all her usual cheerful self.

There was a murmur of interest. They had only ever worked in greenhouse one before- greenhouse three housed far more interesting and dangerous plants. Mandrakes? Harri had read about them and felt a little sick at the idea of handling them. They were a strange mix of plant and animal.

Harri caught a whiff of damp earth and fertilizer as she made to enter the greenhouse, but Lockhart's hand shot out.

"Harriet! I've been wanting a word- you don't mind if she's a couple of minutes late, do you, Professor Sprout?"

Judging by Professor Sprout's scowl, she did mind, but even Harri's pleading eyes were no match for Lockhart who said, "That's the ticket," and closed the greenhouse door in her face.

"Harriet, Harriet, Harriet," said Lockhart, his large white teeth gleaming in the sunlight as he shook his head.

Far too tired to deal with this, Harri said "What?"

"Don't know when I've been more shocked. Purposely avoiding the feast, pretending to be ill, oh Harriet."

"I wasn't-"

"When I heard- well, of course, it was all my fault. Could have kicked myself."

What?

Harri had no idea what he was talking about. She was about to say that she was still a bit ill when Lockhart went on, "Well, of course, I knew at once why you were playing sick, Harriet. Stood out a mile."

"I really was sick, sir," Harri told him.

"Now playing ill is one way to get publicity, but never the right way. You don't want people thinking you're sickly, Harriet!"

"What?"

"Gave you a taste of publicity, didn't I," said Lockhart. "Gave you the bug," and here he winked. "Now I know you didn't want to compete with me for the spotlight. Completely understand. But you can't spend the year playing ill."

"Sir, really. You can ask Snape and the Headmaster. I fainted."

"We've all 'fainted'," he said with a grin. "Just calm down, all right? Plenty of time for all that when you're older. Yes, yes, I know what you're thinking! 'It's all right for him, he's an internationally famous wizard already!' But when I was twelve, I was just as much of a nobody as you are now. In fact, I'd say I was even more of a nobody! I mean, a few people have heard of you, haven't they? All the business with He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!" Harri was shocked. Was this man actually implying that he was more famous than Harri was? It was laughable.

It wasn't like Harri wanted fame, but she knew that she had it. She couldn't go anywhere without whispers. Without being recognized. Everyone thanked her for ending the ghastly war.

He continued on, "I know that it isn't as good as winning _Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award_ five times in a row, as I have- but it's astart, Harriet, it's a start."

He gave Harri a hearty wink and strode off. Harri stood stunned for a few seconds, then remembering she was supposed to be in the greenhouse, she opened the door and slid inside.

Professor Sprout was standing behind a trestle bench in the center of the greenhouse. About twenty pairs of different-colored earmuffs were lying on the bench. When Harri had taken her place between Hermione and Neville, she said, "We'll be repoting Mandrakes today. Now, who can tell me the properties of the Mandrake?"

To nobody's surprise, Harri, Hermione, and Neville all shot hands into the air.

"Show-offs," whispered Ron.

Sprout chose Neville, "Mandragora is a powerful restorative," he said. "They are used to return people who have been transfigured or cursed to their original state."

"Excellent. Ten points to Gryffindor," said Professor Sprout. "The Mandrake forms an essential part of most antidotes. It is also, however, dangerous. Who can tell me why?"

Hermione's hand beat Harri's up.

"The cry of the Mandrake is fatal to anyone who hears it," she said promptly

"Precisely. Take ten points," said Professor Sprout. "Now, the Mandrakes we have here are still very young."

She pointed to a row of deep trays as she spoke, and everyone shuffled forward for a better look. A hundred or so tufty little plants, purplish green in color, were growing there in rows. They looked quite unremarkable to Harri, but she knew that a strange baby-ish looking plant/animal hybrid lurked below.

"Everyone take a pair of earmuffs," said Professor Sprout.

There was a scramble as everyone but Lavender tried to seize a pair that wasn't pink and fluffy.

"When I tell you to put them on, make sure your ears are completely covered," said Professor Sprout. "When it is safe to remove them, I will give you the thumbs-up. Right- earmuffs on."

Harri snapped the muffs over her years. They shut out sound completely. Definitely charmed, she thought, thinking of the muggle equivalent.

Professor Sprout put on a pink fluffy pair over her own ears, rolled up the sleeves of her robes, grasped one of the tufty plants firmly, and pulled hard. There it was, the small, muddy, and extremely ugly baby. It had pale green, mottled skin, and was clearly bawling at the top of its lungs.

Professor Sprout took a large plant pot from under the table and plunged the Mandrake into it, burying him in dark, damp, compost until only the tufted leaves were visible. Professor Sprout dusted off her hands, gave them all the thumbs-up, and removed her own earmuffs.

"As our Mandrakes are only seedlings, their cries won't kill yet," she said calmly. "However, they will knock you out for several hours, and as I'm sure none of you want to miss your first day back, make sure your earmuffs are securely in place while you work. I will attract your attention when it is time to pack up."

"Four to a try- there is a large supply of pots here- compost in the sacks over there- and be careful of the Venomous Tentacula, it's teething"

She gave a sharp slap to a spiky, dark red plant as she spoke, making it draw in the long feelers that he been inching sneakily over her shoulder.

Harri, Ron, and Hermione were not joined by Neville. He opted to work with his soulmate, Hannah Abbot, and two other Hufflepuffs. Instead, they were joined by a Hufflepuff boy Harri knew by sight but had never spoken to.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley," he said brightly, shaking Harri by the hand. "Know who you are, of course, the famous Harriet Potter… and you're Hermione Granger- always top of everything" (Hermione beamed as she had her hand shaken too) "- and Ron Weasley. Was that your sister sorted last night?"

"Yes, Gryffindor again!" said Ron with a smile. Harri felt ashamed, she hadn't asked after Ginny at all.

"That Lockhart's something, isn't he?" said Justin happily as they began filling their plant pots with dragon dung compost. "Awfully brave chap. Have you read his books? I'd have died for fear if I'd been cornered in a telephone booth by a werewolf, but he stayed cool and -zap- just fantastic."

"He was wrong to kill that werewolf!" Harri said sharply. "They're only a wolf three nights a month. The rest of the time they're just people. It's positively horrendous. And then when Lockhart found out it was a muggle who had never had any idea they were a werewolf. That was why he was in that town, not because he meant to hurt people."

"Well, but Lockhart is right that he didn't have any choice!" Justin insisted. "I mean, even people who aren't werewolves during the rest of the month. They've still got the wolf inside them, corrupting them."

"I know that's not true," Harri replied. Justin looked very awkward and opted to change the subject.

"My name was down for Eton. I can't tell you how glad I am I came here instead. Of course, Mother was slightly disappointed, but since I made her read Lockhart's books I think she's begun to see how useful it'll be to have a fully trained wizard in the family…"

After that, they didn't have much chance to talk. Their earmuffs were back on and they needed to concentrate on the Mandrakes. Professor Sprout had made it look extremely easy, but it wasn't. The Mandrakes didn't like coming out of the earth, but didn't seem to want to go back into it either. They squirmed, kicked, flailed their sharp little fists, and gnashed their teeth; Harri spent ten whole minutes trying to squash a particularly fat one into a pot.

The after effect of the class was that Harri was more exhausted than she probably should be. She felt a bit faint and wondered if she should beg off to the Hospital Wing instead of going to Transfiguration. Hermione glared when she vaguely mentioned it, and Harri drug herself to class instead.

Professor McGonagall's classes were always hard work, but today was review and involved wand waving, which Harri had been strictly ordered to avoid. McGonagall already knew this and set Harri to writing an essay while the rest of the class was turning beetles into buttons.

Harri was relieved to hear the lunch bell. Her stomach had been rumbling angrily for the last half hour, and she was certain she should have eaten more than just oatmeal for breakfast. They went down to lunch, where Ron and Neville glowered at Hermione for showing them her perfect buttons.

"What've we got this afternoon?" asked Harri, hastily changing the subject.

"Defense Against the Dark Arts," said Hermione at once.

"Ugg," Harri groaned, "I really should just go back to the Hospital Wing."

"Why," demanded Ron, seizing Hermione's schedule, "have you outlined all Lockhart's lessons in little hearts?"

"Oh Hermione, no!" laughed Neville.

Hermione snatched the schedule back, blushing furiously.

"But you have to admit," she said through her embarrassment, "that he looked very fetching in those robes. And didn't you notice, his wrist covering is still silver."

"I didn't notice," said Harri. Ron and Neville just shook their heads.

"Probably because his soulmate is the reflection," joked Ron.

They finished lunch and went outside into the overcast courtyard. Hermione sat down on a stone step and buried her nose in the well-read _Voyages with Vampires_ again. Harri, Ron, and Neville stood talking about Quidditch for several minutes before Harri became aware that she was being closely watched. Looking up, she saw a very small mousey-haired boy staring at her as though transfixed. He was clutching what looked like an ordinary Muggle camera, and the moment Harri looked at him, he went bright red.

"All right, Harriet? I'm- I'm Colin Creevey," he said breathlessly, taking another step forward. "I'm in Gryffidnor, too. D'you thing- would it be all right if- can I have a picture?" he said, raising the camera hopefully.

Harri opened her mouth, but so sound came out. She felt very uncomfortable. A picture? Goodness no. "Er- why?" Harri asked. She couldn't miss the look of disappointment that flashed across Colin's face.

"So I can prove I've met you," said Colin Creevey eagerly, edging further forward. Harri took a step back, nearly bumping into Ron. "I know all about you. Everyone's told me. About how you survived when You-Know-Who tried to kill you and how he disappeared and everything and how you've still got a lightning scar on your forehead" (his eyes went to the scar, and once again Harri vowed that she would cut fringe) "and a boy in my dormitory said if I develop the film in the right potion, the pictures will move." Colin drew a great shuddering breath of excitement and said, "It's amazing here, isn't it? I never knew all the odd stuff I could do was magic till I got the letter from Hogwarts. My dad's a milkman, he couldn't believe it either. So I'm taking loads of pictures to send home to him. And it'd be really good if I had one of you"- he looked imploringly at Harri- "maybe your friend could take it and I could stand next to you? And then, could you sign it?"

" Signed photos? You're giving out signed photos, Potter?"

Loud and scathing, Draco Malfoy's voice echoed around the courtyard. He had stopped right behind Colin, flanked, as he always was at Hogwarts, by his large and thuggish cronies, Crabbe and Goyle.

"Everyone line up!" Malfoy roared to the crowd. "Harriet Potter's giving out signed photos!"

"No, I'm not," said Harri, her face full red. "Shut up, Malfoy."

"You're just jealous," piped up Colin, whose entire body was about as thick as Crabbe's neck.

" Jealous?" said Malfoy, who didn't need to shout anymore: half the courtyard was listening in. Not Hermione though. She was still reading. Harri noticed Malfoy glance over in her direction. "Of what? I don't want a foul scar right across my head, thanks. I don't think getting your head cut open makes you that special, myself."

Crabbe and Goyle were sniggering stupidly.

"Eat slugs, Malfoy," said Ron angrily. Crabbe stopped laughing and started rubbing his knuckles in a menacing way.

"Be careful, Weasley," sneered Malfoy. "You don't want my father making trouble for yours at work."

Ron whipped out his wand, but Hermione shut _Voyages with Vampires_ with a snap and whispered, "Look out!"

"What's all this, what's all this?" Gilderoy Lockhart was striding toward them, his turquoise robes swirling behind him. "Who's giving out signed photos?"

Harri started to speak but she was cut short as Lockhart flung an arm around her shoulders and thundered jovially, "Shouldn't have asked! We meet again, Harriet!"

Pinned to Lockhart's side and burning with humiliation, Harri saw Malfoy slide smirking back into the crowd.

"Come on then, Mr. Creevey," said Lockhart, beaming at Colin. "A double portrait, can't do better than that, and we'll both sign it for you."

She was going to die of shame. It was sheer force of will that kept her magic in check. She was filled with a certain knowledge that if she lost control of her magic now she would probably be sick on Lockhart's pretty robes and would pass out in front of everyone. That was more embarrassing than a picture, wasn't it? Harri wasn't really sure, at least with the former she would be blacked out and not a witness to this horror show.

Where was Snape when you needed him?

Colin fumbled for his camera and took the picture as the bell rang behind them, signaling the start of afternoon classes.

"Off you go, move along there," Lockhart called to the crowd, and he set off back to the castle with Harri, who was wishing she had the magical energy to disappear.

A word to the wise, Harriet," said Lockhart paternally as they entered the building through a side door. "I covered up for you back there with young Creevy- if he was photographing me, too, your schoolmates won't think you're setting yourself up so much…"

Deaf to Harri's stammers, Lockhart swept her down a corridor lined with staring students and up a staircase.

"Let me just say that handing out signed pictures at this stage of your career isn't sensible- looks a tad bigheaded, Harriet, to be frank. There may well come a time when, like me, you'll need to keep a stack handy wherever you go, but"- he gave a little chortle- "I don't think you're quite there yet."

They had reached Lockhart's classroom and he let Harri go at last. Harri yanked her robes straight and headed for a seat at the very back of the class, where she busied herself with pilling all of Lockhart's books in front of her, so that she could avoid looking at the real thing.

The rest of the class came clattering in, and Ron and Neville sat down on either side of Harri. Hermione went to the front to sit down with Lavender and Parvati, looking a little sheepish when she glanced back at Harri.

"Sorry," she mouthed.

"You could've fried an egg on your face," said Ron. "You'd better hope Creevy doesn't meet Ginny, or they'll start a Harri Potter fan club."

"Shut up," snapped Harri. The last thing she needed was for Lockhart or Malfoy to hear the phrase, "Harri Potter fan club."

"I'd join," said Neville. "We could make t-shirts."

"And a banner," added Ron.

"Regular meetings with member dues."

"Shut up, shut up, shut up," she hissed at them, head between her hands.

When the whole class was seated, Lockhart cleared his throat loudly and silence fell. He reached forward, picked up Hermione's copy ofTravels with Trolls, and held it up to show his own, winking portrait on the front.

"Me," he said, pointing at it and winking as well. "Gilderoy Lockhart, Order of Merlin, Third Class, Honorary Member of the Dark Force Defense League, and five-time winner of Witch Weekly's Most-Charming-Smile Award- but I don't talk about that. I didn't get rid of the Bandon Banshee by smiling at her!"

Parvati literally gasped.

"I see you've all bought a complete set of my books- well done. I thought we'd start today with a little quiz. Nothing to worry about- just to check how well you've read them how much you've taken in-"

When he handed out the test papers he returned to the front of the class and said, "you have thirty minutes- start- now! "

Harri looked down at her paper and read:

1\. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's favorite color?

2\. What is Gilderoy Lockhart's secret ambition?

3\. What, in your opinion, is Gilderoy Lockhart's greatest achievement to date?

On and on it went, over three sides of paper, right down to"

54\. When is Gilderoy Lockhart's birthday, and what would his ideal gift be?

Harri had to restrain herself from laughing. She needed to keep a copy of this to show Snape. He'd love it. And he called her father big headed. This- this was the zenith of it. She glanced over at Neville who looked like he was fit to burst as well.

"Should we try to be serious?" she asked him.

But before he could answer, Lockhart called, "Now no sharing answers!"

Half an hour later, Lockhart collected the papers and rifled through them in front of the class.

"Tut, tut- hardly any of you remembered that my favorite color is lilac. I say so in _Year_ _of the Yeti_. And a few of you need to read _Wanderings with Werewolves_ more carefully- I clearly state in chapter twelve that my ideal birthday gift would be harmony between all magic and non-magic people- though I wouldn't say no to a large bottle of Ogden's Old Firewhisky!"

He gave them another roguish wink. Ron was now staring at Lockhart with an expression of disbelief on his face; Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas, who were sitting in front, were shaking with silent laughter. Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati on the other hand, were listening to Lockhart with rapt attention and gave a start when he mentioned Hermione's name.

"... but Miss. Hermione Granger knew my secret ambition is to rid the world of evil and market my own range of hair-care potions- good girl! In fact"- he flipped her paper over- "full marks! Where is Miss. Hermione Granger?"

Oh good Lord no. Hermione hadn't.

She raised a trembling hand.

"Excellent!" beamed Lockhart. "Quite excellent! Take ten points for Gryffindor! And so- to business-"

He bent down behind his desk and lifted a large, covered cage onto it.

"Now- be warned! It is my job to arm you against the foulest creatures known to wizardkind! You may find yourselves facing your worst fears in this room. Know only that no harm can befall you whilst I am here. All I ask is that you remain calm."

In spite of herself, Harri leaned around her pile of books for a better look at the cage. Lockhart placed a hand on the cover. Dean and Seamus had stopped laughing now. Hermione looked intrigued.

"I must ask you not to scream," said Lockhart in a low voice. "It might provoke them."

As the whole class held its breath, Lockhart whipped off the cover.

"Yes," he said dramatically. "Freshly caught Cornish pixies."

Seamus Finnigan couldn't control himself. He let out a snort of laughter that ever Lockhart couldn't mistake for a scream of terror.

"Yes?" he smiled at Seamus.

"Well, they're not- they're not very- dangerous, are they?" Seamus choked.

"Don't be so sure!" said Lockhart, waggling a finger annoyingly at Seamus. "Devilish tricky little blighters they can be!"

The Pixies were electric blue and about eight inches high, with pointed faces and voices so shrill it was like listening to a lot of budgies arguing. The moment the cover had been removed, they had started jabbering and rocketing around, rattling the bars and making bizarre faces at the people nearest them.

"Right then," Lockhart said loudly. "Let's see what you make of them then!" And he opened the cage.

Now Harri knew what a pain these types of creatures were. She had run into a few at Spinner's End and knew the spell to get them all quite. The pandemonium that was quickly developing caused her to roll up her sleeves, brandish her wand, and call out the Freezing Charm, " _Immobulus_ "

The Pixies all froze. It must have been a strong spell then, she had been sure she would have had to cast it several times to get them all.

That was good. Only... not that she was thinking on it she understood why Madame Pomfrey hadn't wanted her to do magic. Exhaustion washed over her.

Everything went dark again.

* * *

Bugger.

She'd passed out again. She was sure of it. Everything was dark and her eyes felt too heavy to open.

 _Oh, Harri. Why do you keep doing this to yourself?_ a voice asked.

I don't know. I don't mean to. I was just trying to help everyone.

 _You should know better. I've already taken so much, you should have let yourself rest. We don't need to put too much stress on that pretty little core of yours._

Wait? Who are you? What is this?

 _Don't worry about that Harriet. I'm afraid we won't get to do this much longer. Your magic won't be what sustains me soon. That will be my new friend._

My magic?

 _Shh, forget. Your sweet magic has done its job and I am strong. What more could I have asked of you? Magic truly made you perfect for my needs, didn't it?_

This made no sense, but it hurt her head to keep thinking of it. She sunk deeper into the safe darkness and gave up trying to concentrate on the hissing voice.


	25. Memoriae: Slugs and Serpents

When Harri woke, it was to a dark Hospital Wing. She felt around for her glasses and found them on the bedside table. Out the window, Harri could see the faint pink light of early morning. Late afternoon had been when she had passed out, so she had been asleep for well over twelve hours. She did finally feel better though. The heavy feeling had faded, her head was no longer throbbing, and she felt as if she could manage to go to class without falling over in exhaustion. Madame Pomfrey had been right that staying in the Hospital Wing and missing her first day would have been better for her. Darn the mediwitch, she wouldn't let Harri escape next time.

A soft snore to her left made Harri jump, and squinting through the dim light she saw a lump on the bed next to her. Was someone else injured? But no, as she squinted she was greeted with the sight of Severus Snape. Had he stayed the whole night? A warm feeling filled Harri's chest.

"Ah good, you're awake," someone said, making Harri jump. It was Madame Pomfrey in her bathrobe. She looked tired but decently alert. Had she been waiting up for Harri all night?

"How did you…"

"A little charm, dear. A healer's bread and butter to know when a patient wakes up."

"Oh. That's a useful trick," Harri replied.

Snape snorted slightly and woke.

"Is she up, Madame?" he asked sleepily.

"I'm up, Uncle Sev," Harri said lightly. "And feeling much better," she told the two adults.

"We'll see about that," said Madame Pomfrey, who began to cast diagnostic charms. A soft blue glow enveloped Harri, and Snape let out a satisfied sigh.

"That does look better," he said softly.

"Yes, I'd say so," agreed the mediwitch. "Your core has stabilized, Harriet. As I suspected, rest would have done you good yesterday instead of overexerting. Maybe next time you'll listen," she said primly.

"Hopefully there won't be a next time, ma'am," Harri told her cheekily.

"Unlikely," the witch said. "Now I have prep to do. You're free to go, Harri. If you feel suddenly tired do come back. I don't want yesterday happening again. I'll send an elf over with breakfast. Something easy on the stomach, I think. Would you like anything, Professor?" she asked Snape.

"Some tea," answered Snape.

Madame Pomfrey was off in her usual bustling manner. Harri turned to Snape, who looked rumpled and out of place on the hospital bed. His hair, usually pulled back or hanging limply from fume oils, was in disarray.

"Are you mad?" Harri asked him.

"No. You shouldn't have been put in that position to begin with. Lockhart," Snape paused with a sneer, "should know better than to release a gang of pixies into a second-year class."

"Why is it that he got the job instead of you?" Harri asked. It was well known that Snape wanted the defense job.

"It's a cursed position. If I were to ever take over, it would only be for a year."

"It's actually cursed?"

"Yes," said Snape, his lips curled into an unhappy sneer. "We haven't been able to keep a steady professor for the twenty odd years I've been at Hogwarts."

"Do you know who cursed it?" Harri asked.

Snape rolled his eyes, "No, but does it matter? The point is that we are cured with incompetence. My least favorite attribute. We must take care to not let that pompous man hurt anyone, especially not you, again."

Harri shrugged, "It wasn't really his fault.

The room was lighter now, and Harri could make out Snape's angry eyes. "It was his fault, Harriet. He is an adult. You are school children."

"I don't see how that matters."

"I hope one day you will."

* * *

Harri only received minor jeering from the Slytherin table about her fainting spell. Most of came from Pansy Parkinson and Draco Malfoy, who could be ignored. Hermione was very pleased to have Harri back in the dorms finally, giving her "A break from all this girly silliness."

"Hermione, I like the girly silliness," Harri told her with a laugh. She then presented her pink fwooper feather quills to her three roommates. Lavender and Parvati both squealed with delight and wrapped Harri in a tight hug while jumping up in down.

"Careful! I'll bend them!" Harri told them through her smile. Three people who hugged her, she thought warmly.

She spent a lot of the next few days dodging out of sight whenever she saw Gilderoy Lockhart coming down a corridor. He had cornered her the day after she left the Hospital Wing to give another lecture about playing sick for the sake of fame.

"He's unbearable," Harri groused to Hermione that night.

"Oh, he's just looking out for you," Hermione tried to brush off.

"What is it about Lockhart, Hermione?" Harri asked in exasperation. "I know he's good looking, but he's horrid."

Hermione gripped the silver mark covering on her wrist. "Harri… I just want to pretend. Please let me. He's handsome and he's published such exciting books. I don't really care if any of it is true. I just want there to be someone else to think about."

"Oh."

"Yes, oh. I don't know if you can understand, Harri. I know you say you've met yours, but you don't have to put up with him day after day being horrid."

Harri fell quiet. How to explain to Hermione that she had defiantly won the worst soulmate contest. There probably wasn't a way without saying… and Harri didn't want to say anything. Nasty thoughts filled her head, thoughts of her friends finding out, thinking she was maybe evil herself, wanting nothing to do with her, Hermione never giving her a hug again.

"I guess you're right, Hermione," Harri said, letting the subject of Lockhart and his abject horribleness drop.

They fell into an awkward silence, and then bed.

Harri didn't bring up Lockhart around Hermione again, but she did start to complain about Colin Creevey. She felt like he was more Colin Creepy. He had clearly memorized Harri's schedule and had taken to running into her six or seven times a day. Always saying, "Hi, Harriet!" or "All right, Harri." He would let out a little squeak of excitement every time she would respond, "Hello, Collin," with more exasperation each time.

With the new stress of being back at school and two annoying figures following her around, Harri was relieved when Friday night came and it was time to serve detention with Snape and the Runespoor.

" _Furry,_ " the middle head hissed happily when it saw Harri.

" _Hello again_ ," Harri told it. " _I think we're doing actual research tonight._ "

" _It's certainly taken long enough,_ " groused the right head.

" _Yes_ , _we have been wondering when true research would start,_ " agreed the left.

" _I didn't mind,_ " said the middle. " _I've gotten to spend so much time being awash in the magic."_

"Well they're ready to get started," Harri told Snape.

"Excellent," he said with a manic gleam to his eyes. "We'll begin our research with the mental regenerative properties of the Runespoor. Which potion uses the eggs, Harriet."

"The Wit-Sharpening Potion, Algier's Short Term Memory Enhancer, and The Neuron Regeneration Brew."

"Good. Now when testing the effects of other components of the Runespoor we will be using other magical aspects of it and testing it in the same potions to see if it enhances their effectiveness, has no effect, or lessens the effect. Which properties would make the most sense to test?"

"Scales, Fang, and Venom?"

"A good start. We could also try with their uric acid."

"Eww, snake urine?"

"Can be imbued with magic properties."

"Gross."

"Yes, that would describe many potion ingredients," Snape said rolling his eyes.

"In any case, we will start with venom. Please ask the Runespoor's right head to bite down on this," Snape said, handing an interesting vial with what looked like stretched skin on top to Harri. "Once we have the venom I'll be showing you how to convert it to a powder. A powder is a much more stable way to work with the venom. Why?"

"Because the powder is produced using a process that put the venom into a known… amount? The active agent becomes quantifiable and therefore can be accurately measured. The potion can be replicated, and the amount used can be raised or lowered without guesswork."

"A little messy in the description, but yes," Snape said with a slight smile. "It is also easier to make anti-venom from powder. That is partially why we are beginning here. If something were to happen, we want the ability to fix it quickly."

Harri nodded and then turned back to the snake. It had been watching the two humans speak with vague interest. Harri wasn't certain on the snake's grasp on English.

" _So_ ," Harri hissed, " _If you would be willing to bite down on this so we can collect venom, that would be all we need of you tonight_."

" _Our venom?_ " asked the left head. " _Why would you want something that is for killing our prey?_ "

" _Yes, it doesn't seem like it would help in any research_ ," said the right head with suspicion. He looked grumpy and a little silly wearing his cone.

" _Venom used in non-lethal doses can actually be useful in many medical practices,"_ Harri said. It didn't translate well.

The middle head hissed in laughter. " _Oh, Furry. You speak, but with such a funny accent_."

She continued to bicker with the snake until it finally relented and bit down on the skin covered jar. Bright orange venom exploded out of its fangs.

"That's an excellent sample," Snape said cheerily. It was strange seeing him so happy. Was it an alien wearing Snape's face?

"Now, to begin the process of powdering…" and they spent the next several hours going over how to powder a venom so that it was at several different toxicities. They created five different solutions, which Snape was quite pleased about.

While Harri was glad the evening was working out so well for him, she was very tired and it was near midnight by the time all the powders were collected and stored. The Runespoor was dozing on its warming rock, leaving Harri feeling envious that the snake got to sleep.

 _It must be nearly time to leave,_ Harr thought sleepily.

Then… she heard something. It was a voice, a voice to chill the bone marrow, a voice of breath-taking, ice-cold venom.

" _Come… come to me… Let me rip you... Let me tear you… Let me kill you…"_

Harri gave a huge jump and nearly fell off her stool. Snape looked startled, removed his goggles, and looking over at Harri with annoyance.

"If you're falling asleep on your feet you can go to bed, Harriet," he said sharply.

"What? No."

Snape looked at her dubiously.

"NO, the voice!"

"What voice?" asked Snape, looking around like he expected a Weasley twin to appear in his storeroom.

"It was…. It was threatening to kill someone."

"You heard a voice threatening to kill someone? I didn't hear anything Harriet. Were you dreaming?" It was patronizing.

"NO. I wouldn't dream something like that. It was… I've never heard anything like it!"

" _We heard it too, Furry_ ," interjected the Runespoor.

Harri turned to the snake. " _You did?_ " she asked it. " _Was it a snake then?_ "

A snake roaming the corridors looking to kill could very well be a Slytherin student's pet looking for mice.

" _It was Mother,_ " said the critic with a reverent hiss.

" _Your mother is here?"_ Harri asked. Had they kidnapped a hatchling whose mother had hunted them from Africa? That seemed very unlikely.

" _Not our mother,"_ explained the left head. " _The Mother. Of all Serpents."_

Harri looked at Snape who looked frustrated from being pulled from his sharp focus. "They say it was a snake. But I'm not sure this is translating right. Do you know who the Mother of Serpents is?"

Snape shook his head. "I've no idea. But if there is an illegal snake slithering around Hogwarts, we'll find it. Grab a bezoar before heading back to your tower. I'll write you a note for being out past curfew."

"You're sending me back when there is a murderous snake around here?"

"You're a parslemouth, Harriet. If anyone can be wandering around, it's you. Talk to the bloody thing if you run into it."

That didn't feel acceptable to Harri, but she had her invisibility cloak and would just tread lightly as she went. Hopefully, she didn't meet a nasty surprise on her way to the common room. At least they don't like stairs, she thought and was glad when she reached the staircase off of the Great Hall.

It was so late that the Gryffindor common room was almost empty. Harri went straight to the dormitory. Lavender and Parvati were asleep, but Hermione was up still reading in bed. She gave a small wave in greeting, before going back to her book.

How someone could look so interested in Goblin Wars, Harri would never know.

She climbed onto Hermione's bed and shut the curtains. Keeping her voice low so that the other two wouldn't wake, Harri told her about her evening with Snape.

"And they said it was the Mother of Serpents?" Hermione asked. "Snape just let you walk back," she added with an angry furrow between her eyes.

"Well, he had a point. Snakes aren't supposed to attack Parslemouths. It's a type of magical binding. At least, that's how the Runespoor describes it."

"We'll have to research this," Hermione said. "I don't like the idea of a mad snake slithering around the castle," she said with a shiver.

* * *

Harri didn't mind that she and Hermione stayed up talking till one in the morning on the grounds that she could sleep in on Saturday morning. The four friends were planning to go see Hagrid around ten, but that still left plenty of time for rest. Harri, however, was shaken awake several hours earlier by Angelina Johnson.

Angelina didn't look happy about it. "Up, Potter. Wood wants us to practice." Harri squinted out the window. There was a thin mist hanging across the pink-and-gold sky. Now that she was awake, she couldn't understand how she had slept through the racket that the birds and her cat were making.

Gulliver was standing at the window letting out strange eeks and chirps, his tail swishing.

"Angelina, has Wood gone mad? It's the crack of dawn."

"You're telling me," the chaser groused. "On the field in fifteen."

Harri climbed out of bed and tried to find her Quidditch robes. When she found her scarlet team robes and pulled on her cloak for warmth, she scribbled a note to Hermione explaining where she'd gone. She went down the spiral staircase to the common room, her Nimbus Two Thousand on her shoulder. She had just reached the portrait hole when there was a clatter behind her and Colin Creevey came dashing down the boy's stair, his camera swinging madly around his neck and something clutched in his hand.

"I heard someone saying your name on the stairs, Harriet! Look what I've got here! I've had it developed, I wanted to show you-"

Harri looked bemusedly at the photograph Colin was brandishing under her nose. A moving black-and-white Lockhart was tugging hard on an arm Harri recognized as her own. She was pleased to see that her photographic self was putting up a good fight and refusing to be dragged into view. As Harri watched, Lockhart gave up and slumped, panting, against the white edge of the picture.

"Will you sign it?" said Colin eagerly.

It was time to be straight with him. "No. Colin look, I'm sure you mean well, but you're making me uncomfortable. I'm not a real celebrity. I'm a girl whose parents got murdered. I need you to stop following me around. If you want to actually talk, that's great. But I'm not someone you can follow around and take pictures of."

He looked crestfallen. "No… I'm sorry Harriet. I'm sure you don't want some first year following you around."

"It's not even that, Colin. I'm happy to get to know you. But you have to treat me like a normal person. One you're just getting to know."

The small boy nodded. "Alright." He looked glum. "I'll leave you alone for now, Harriet. I didn't mean to be rude or anything. I just… I've heard how You-Know-Who was. That people like me… people who are muggle-born with milkmen for fathers, they weren't treated very well. I feel really grateful," he looked up at her with shining eyes. "I don't like to think that there is a version of life where I don't get to come here and be magical. And it's all because of you that I do!"

Harri understand. She did. It was a much less creepy version of his adoration than she had feared. "It wasn't really me, though. It was _me_ , but I have no idea why it happened. So just be glad that it did. I think I'm rather circumstantial to it."

Colin nodded and turned to head back to the dorms. "Bye, Colin. I'll see you around," she said. He perked up a little and gave Harri a small wave.

The rest of the Gryffindor team were already in the changing room. Wood was the only person who looked truly awake. Fred and George were sitting, puffy-eyed and tousle-haired, next to Alicia Spinnet, who seemed to be nodding off against the wall behind her. Her fellow Chasers, Katie Bell and Angelina Johnson, were yawing side by side opposite them.

"There you are, Harri, what kept you?" said Wood briskly. "Now I wanted a quick talk with you all before we actually get onto the field…"

What followed were diagrams that fell on deaf ears. Several boards of diagrams were pushed forward, each taking nearly half an hour to explain. When they finally were done, several motivational speeches later, the sun was up completely.

As Harri walked onto the field she saw Ron, Hermione, and Neville sitting in the stands.

"Aren't you finished yet?" called Ron incredulously.

"Haven't even started," said Harri, looking jealously at the toast and marmalade they had brought out of the Great Hall. "Wood's been teaching us new moved."

She mounted her broomstick and kicked at the ground, soaring up into the air. The cool morning air whipped her hair, waking her up far more effectively than Wood's long talk. It felt wonderful to fly and feel her hair streaming behind her. Parvati would be aghast at the knots.

They were getting into formation to try Wood's first diagram when Wood stopped midsentence. "I don't believe it!" he hissed in outrage. "I booked the field for today!"

Several people in green robes were walking on the field, broomsticks in their hands. Wood shot toward the ground, landing rather harder than he meant to in his anger, staggering slightly as he dismounted. Harri, Fred, and George followed.

"Flint!" Wood bellowed at the Slytherin Captain. "This is our practice time! We got up specially. You can clear off now!"

Marcus Flint was even larger than Wood. He had a look of troll-ish cunning on his face as he replied, "Plenty of room for all us, Wood."

Angelina, Alicia, and Katie had come over too. There were no girls on the Slytherin team, who stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the Gryffindors, leering to a man. Their two beaters were leering specifically at Angelina, who was the most full-figured of the female Gryffindor players.

"But I booked the field!" said Wood, positively spitting with rage. "I booked it!"

"Ah," said Flint. "But I've got a specially signed note here from Professor Snape. _'I Profesor S. Snape, give the Slytherin team permission to practice today on the Quidditch field owing to the need to train their new Seeker."_

Harri wanted to march up to the castle and yell at Snape. He knew that times were assigned through Hooch. Professors weren't supposed to do things like that. He was just angry that the Gryffindor team had only lost the Quidditch cup last year because she had been unconscious in the Hospital Wing.

"You've got a new Seeker?" said Wood, distracted. "Where?"

And from behind the six large figures before them came a seventh, smaller boy, smirking all over his pale, pointed face. It was Draco Malfoy.

"Aren't you Lucius Malfoy's son?" said Fred, looking at Malfoy with dislike and no doubt remembering the altercation in Flourish and Blotts.

"Funny you should mention Draco's father," said Flint as the whole Slytherin team siled still more broadly. "Let me show you the generous gift he's made to the Slytherin team."

All seven of them held out their broomsticks. Seven highly polished, brand-new handles and seven sets of fine gold lettering spelling the words _Nimbus Two Thousand and One_ gleamed under the Gryffindors' nose in the early morning sun.

"Very latest model. Only came out last month," said Flint carelessly, flicking a speck of dust from the end of his own. "I believe it outstrips the old Two Thousand series by a considerable amount. As for the old Cleansweeps"- he smiled nastily at Fred and George, who were both clutching Cleansweep Fives- "sweeps the board with them."

None of the Gryffindor team could think of anything to say for a moment. Malfoy was smirking so broadly his cold eyes were reduced to slits.

"Oh, look," said Flint. "A field invasion."

Harri didn't need to turn around to see that it was Ron, Neville, and Hermione coming towards them. She could see in Malfoy's face. He wasn't smirking anymore. He looked grim, with a hard set to his jaw like he was clenching his teeth.

"What's happening?" Ron asked Harri. "Why aren't you playing? And what's he doing here?"

He was looking at Malfoy, taking in his Slytherin Quidditch robes.

"He's on the team now," Neville surmised. "Those are new brooms too."

"That's right," Malfoy drawled. "I'm the new Seeker. Everyone's just been admiring the brooms my father's bought our team."

Ron gaped, openmouthed at the seven superb broomsticks. Harri was a bit shocked too. The amount of money it would cost! She would have to empty her trust vault.

"Good, aren't they?" said Malfoy smoothly. "But perhaps the Gryffindor team will be able to raise some gold and get new brooms, too. You could raffle off those Cleansweep Fives; I expect a museum would bid for them."

The Slytherin team howled with laughter.

"At least no one of the Gryffindor team had to buy their way in," said Hermione sharply. "They got in on pure talent."

The smug look on Malfoy's face fell completely.

"No one asked your opinion, you filthy little Mudblood," he spat. It was far from the first time Mafloy had called Hermione that slur. Harri had comforted a crying Hermione several times last year. Neville had gotten jinxed over defending her. It was vile talk, and Harri wanted to punch the git.

Not every one of the Gryffindor team was used to Mafloy's crude way of speaking to Hermione. Fred and George attempted to jump on Mafloy. Alicia shrieked, "How dare you!"

It was Ron though, who actually did something about Malfoy this time. He plunged his hand into his robes, pulled out his wad, and yelled: "You'll pay for that one, Malfoy!" and pointed it furiously under Flint's arm at Malfoy's face.

A loud bang echoed around the stadium and a jet of green light shot out of Ron's wand, hitting Malfoy square in the face.

Malfoy fell flat on his back, and Flint worked to help him to his feet. "You'll pay for that Weasley!" he spat.

Malfoy opened his mouth to speak, no doubt something nasty was going to come out, when something literally nasty escaped. He gave an almighty belch and several slugs dribbled out of his mouth onto the grass.

The Gryffindor team worked very hard to subdue their laughter, and Ron was so white that his freckles stood out in sharp contrast.

"Not saying I don't agree with you Mate," Neville whispered, "but I'm not sure that was such a good idea."

Malfoy managed a few pitiful "My father… will… hear" as he was hauled off to the Hospital Wing by Flint. All semblance of practice had fallen apart.

"I think you should go see McGonagall," Wood told Ron frankly. "Get your feet under the situation."

Ron, still very pale, nodded. Hermione looked visibly upset, though if it was Ron or Malfoy causing her distress, Harri wasn't sure.

McGonagall's office was not a common sight for Harri, Ron, or Neville. Hermione, on the other hand spent at least an hour a week badgering McGonagall for extra reading and updated journals. The four filed in, and McGonagall was already thin-lipped with anger. She knew.

"Well," she began angrily, "there is never an excusable reason for hexing another student, Weasly. But go on, let's hear it."

She looked at Ron sternly through her square spectacles. Ron straightened his back, and firmly answered, "Malfoy called Hermione a… well you know. I don't want to repeat it."

"I'm afraid I don't know, Mr. Weasley."

"He called me a _filthy little mudblood_ ," Hermione said, saving Ron the embarrassment of repeating the slur. "It isn't the first time."

McGonagall looked taken aback. "Language like that at this school is prohibited, Miss. Granger. If Mr. Malfoy speaks that way to you again, you will find a teacher at once."

Hermione nodded, as McGonagall turned back to Ron. "As for you Mr. Weasley, as it's the start of the term there aren't many points to deduct. Hexing another student is usually worth one hundred points and detention. As it is, I'll settle for the next four Saturdays. Be grateful it isn't more." Ron didn't protest, just nodded.

"I understand, ma'am."

Her face softened somewhat. "I know what you were trying to do, Mr. Weasley. It is an admirable thing to want to defend your friends. But be aware that choices like this have far-reaching consequences. You should owl your parents so they know what happened."

Ron flinched and did look a bit shamefaced. "You're excused," said Professor McGonagall.

The four left.

"Why does McGonagall want you to write your dad?" Harri asked.

"Probably about work," Ron muttered. The girls looked confused.

"Ron's father works for the Ministry, right?" Neville asked. "Well, Malfoy's father is the head of an Ancient House. That's basically a Lordship. He pours a lot of gold into that place. Mr. Weasley could face some trouble at work over this."

"All over me?" Hermione squeaked.

"It's worth it, Hermione," Ron told her. "They can't get away with that. It's nonsense. There isn't a spell that you've met that you can't do. It's a disgusting thing to call someone. And hypocritical. Wizards have married into Muggles. We have to have, or we'd've died out."

"You're a pureblood, Ron!" Hermione exclaimed in frustration.

"Well sure, my grandparents are all magical. That's all it means. Some families like to boast about no Muggle blood for generations, but no one really knows. It's all tosh. My parents think so. And I know…." and here Ron took a very deep breath. "I know that my Dad won't stand for you being called vile things. He won't like that I cursed Malfoy. But he always told me to stand up for my friends. I'll go write to them now," and Ron headed off.

Hermione's cheeks were pink. "When did Ron grow up from that rude boy a year ago?" she asked Harri.

"I don't know," Harri agreed. "But next time I'll hex Malfoy. No one will lose a job over me."

"I'll write Gran," interjected Neville. "Maybe she can do something to head Mr. Malfoy off. We've got some money investiture at the Ministry, too."

Hermione and Harri were left in the corridor outside of McGonagall's office, both a little shocked. "Are you okay, Hermione?" Harri asked her.

"I am… it's just… do you think Ron has maybe… gotten a little more attractive?"

"No."

"I really think…"

"It's possible you just like seeing him curse Malfoy." Hermione glared.

"No, I just...it's nice. Having friends. Having someone stand up for me. He's very brave, that Ron Weasley."

"No intergroup dating!" Harri said, glaring at Hermione. "You'll break us up. You know I'll choose you, and Neville will choose Ron. It just won't work Hermione. I forbid it!"

"Harri, I'm just thirteen."

"Almost thirteen! Speaking of, what do you want for your birthday? A snog from Ron?"

"Harriet Dorea Potter!"

* * *

So I'm throwing in some Ron/Hermione but it's not an endgame pairing and it isn't planned as more than a little crush. Some of Ron's lines on blood purity are ripped directly from the book. If he wasn't belching slugs while saying them, I bet Hermione would feel pretty touched.


	26. Memoriae: Samhain

October arrived, spreading a damp chill over the grounds and into the castle. Madame Pomfrey was kept busy by a sudden spat of colds among the staff and students. The Pepperup Potion worked instantly, though it meant that Harri and Professor Snape spent less time researching and more time brewing for the Hospital Wing. Ginny Weasley, who had been looking pale, was bullied into taking some by Percy. The steam pouring from under her vivid hair gave the impression that her whole head was on fire.

Harri tried multiple times to speak with Ginny that month. Despite her best efforts though, Ginny had returned to her pre-summer state. She could barely manage a word around Harri and would rush away as soon as Harri sat down near her.

It was the week before Halloween when Harri received a summons to the Headmaster's office. Handed off by Percy Weasley at breakfast it read,

" _Harri,_

 _I would appreciate your presence this evening at five o'clock._

 _My favorite sweet is Pumpkin Pasties._

 _Professor Dumbledore"_

"Did you do something to get in trouble?" Neville asked, reading over her shoulder.

"Not at all," Harri replied. She couldn't think of a single toe she had stepped out of line. Ever since Ron had hexed Malfoy the four Gryffindors had done their best to stay out of trouble. Mrs. Weasley's reply had not been a howler, as Ron feared, but a fairly cordial letter.

 _"Ron,_

 _While your father and I cannot say that we are pleased with your most recent actions, we also cannot say that we are surprised. After the way Draco Malfoy's father spoke to Hermione's parents, we assumed he would continue with his father's poor manners._

 _At the moment there is no inquiry at your father's office, but it wouldn't surprise us if one happened in the next month. Your father will be sure every i is dotted and every t crossed. In the meantime, keep your grades up, look out for your sister, and don't go near Draco Malfoy._

 _With love,_

 _Mum"_

With the Malfoy incident some time behind them now, Harri couldn't think why the Headmaster wanted to see her. It was with great trepidation that she road the steps up to his office. Harri came to the gleaming oak door, with the brass knocker in the shape of a griffin, and paused, What could Dumbledore want?

She rapped at the door.

"Enter," called Dumbledore.

Harri stepped into the large circular room. It was always very pleasant in this office and by far the most interesting office of any Professor. Snape's was all darkness with strange jars and bad smells. Dumbledore's office was very bright, covered in portraits, and strange silver instruments that sat whirring and emitting little puffs of smoke.

"You wanted to see me, Professor?" Harri asked, closing the door behind her.

"Ah yes," said Dumbledore peering at her over his half-moon glasses. He was seated at his desk looking over paperwork. "I was wondering, Harri, if you would be interested in joining me for a Samhain ritual."

"A what?" Harri asked uncertainly. Draco Malfoy had mentioned a Yule ritual, but Harri hadn't heard any mention of Samhain.

"It's a ritual that I perform every year on Halloween. I think it would be of great value for you to participate this year. Twelve years old, it's a very important age for a young witch."

Harri, who had not taken Arithmancy, had read up on the subject after her apparition act on her birthday. Day 212. It had mattered for the weakening of the wards. Why would being twelve years old matter though? It was not a strong number. It had several factors: two, three, four, and six. Four was more factors than many numbers, especially ages, had.

Higher factors meant to break down, to make weak. Having few factors, or being a prime number, meant to build up. Because a prime number could not be divided, it was a strong number to build magic off of.

Thus when a witch or wizard turned seventeen, an age without factors, something happened to the core that caused expansion. At eleven years old, school started because magic was finally easily accessible to a child. At thirteen, when more complex magic would begin to be taught, the core had a small puberty.

Why would a magically weak age, such as twelve, be one that had any value? By the arithmic standard of school ages, twelve was the magically weakest. It had the least magical expansion and the most reason for dedicated study and building on foundations.

"What would you need me to help you do, sir? Would anyone else be involved?" Was he inviting her because Snape would be there?

"Oh, no. It would just be us, Harri. And I'd show you as we went. It's not complicated, but it is important."

"That doesn't make sense." And it didn't. Why would Dumbledore, the literal Lord of Light, want a twelve-year-old to tag along on a Samhain ritual? One that he deemed important. There was not a clear added value.

"It will, give it time. It's magic you should know. It's an old tradition, not often practiced anymore. None of the old light families publicly do. Families with magic inclined towards the dark have a different ritual entirely. What I would show you is something that would be very similar to the ritual the Potter family has historically performed."

"You're… trying to teach me magic that my family practiced?"

"In a way. You won't have the opportunity to enact the specifics until you come of age. That would be in your family grimoire, which should be in your family vault. Yet, you may find that what I show you is of greater utility than even that."

"I don't understand."

Dumbledore gave her a small smile, clearly amused at her blunt answer. "No, I suppose you wouldn't. In time, Harri, in time."

* * *

Raindrops the size of bullets thundered on the castle windows for days on end; the lake rose, the flower beds turned into muddy streams, and Hagrid's pumpkins swelled to the size of garden sheds. Oliver Wood's enthusiasm for regular training sessions, however, was not dampened, which was why Harri was to be found, late on a stormy Saturday afternoon, a few days before Halloween, returning to Gryffindor Tower, drenched to the skin and splattered with mud.

As Harri squelched along the deserted corridor she came across somebody who looked just as preoccupied as she was. Nearly Headless Nick, the ghost of Gryffindor Tower, was staring morosely out of a window, muttering under his breath, "... don't fulfill the requirements… half an inch, if that…"

"Hello, Nick," said Harri.

"Hello, hello," said Nearly Headless Nick, starting and looking around. He wore a dashing, plumed hat on his long curly hair, and a tunic with a ruff, which concealed the fact that his neck was almost completely severed. He was pale as smoke, and Harri could see right through him to the dark sky and torrential rain outside.

"You look troubled, young Potter," said Nick, folding a transparent letter as he spoke and tucking it inside his doublet.

"So do you," said Harri.

"Ah," Nearly Headless Nick waved an elegant hand, "a matter of no importance… It's not as though I really wanted to join… Thought I'd apply, but apparently I 'don't fulfill requirements'-"

In spite of his airy tone, there was a look of great bitterness on his face.

"But you would think, wouldn't you," he erupted suddenly, pulling the letter back out of his pocket, "that getting hit forty-five times in the beck with a blunt az would qualify you to join the Headless Hunt?"

"Oh- yes," said Harri, who was obviously supposed to agree.

"I mean, nobody wishes more than I do that it had all been quick and clean, and my head had come off properly, I mean it would have saved me a great deal of pain and ridicule. However-" Nearly Headless Nick shook his letter open and read furiously:

 _"We can only accept huntsmen whose heads have parted completely with their bodies. You will appreciate that it would be impossible otherwise for members to participate in hunt activities such as Horseback Head-Juggling and Head Polo. It is with the greatest regret, therefore, that I must inform you that you do not fulfill our requirements. With best wishes, Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore."_

Fuming, Nearly Headless Nick stuffed the letter away. "Half an inch of skin and sinew holding my new on, Harriet! Most people would think that's good and beheaded, but oh, no, it's not enough for Sir. Properly Decapitated-Podmore."

Nearly Headless Nick took several deep breaths and then said in a far calmer tone, "So- what's bothering you? Anything I can do?"

"No," said Harri. "Not unless you know anything about participating in a Samhain ritual. I've been invited by-"

The rest of Harri's sentence was drowned out by a high-pitched mewling from somewhere near her ankles. She looked down, almost expecting to see Gulliver, but instead saw a pain of lamp-like yellow eyes. It was Mrs. Norris, the skeletal gray cat who was used by the caretaker, Argus Filch, as a sort of deputy in his endless battle against the students.

"You'd better get out of here, Harriet," said Nick quickly. "Filch isn't in a good mood- he's got the flu and some third years accidentally plastered frog brains all over the ceiling in dungeon five. He's been cleaning all morning, and if he sees you dripping mud all over the place-"

"Oh," said Harri. "Right, _Scourgify,"_ she said, pointing her wand down at the puddle that had formed. It quickly evaporated. She was about to cast on the tracks that she had made, when Argus Filch burst suddenly through a tapestry to Harri's right, wheezing and looking wildly about for the rule-breaker. There was a thick tartan scarf bound around his head, and his nose was unusually purple.

"No spellcasting in the corridors! And look at that filth you've tracked in. Follow me, Potter!"

"Sir, I'm really happy to clean this up. I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking."

"Wasn't thinking," Filch seethed. "They never think do they."

So Harri waved a gloomy good-bye to Nearly Headless Nick and followed Filch back downstairs, doubling the number of muddy footprints of the floor. Filch's sharp glare at her wand made her hesitate to finish scouring her robes.

Harri had never been inside Filch's office before; it was a place most students avoided. The room was dingy and windowless, lit by a single oil land dangling from the low ceiling. A faint smell of fried fish lingered about the place. Wooden filing cabinets stood around the walls; from their labels, Harri could see that they contained details of every pupil Filch had ever punished. Fred and George Weasley had an entire drawer to themselves. And there in the bottom drawer was "Black, Sirius, Lupin, Remus, Pettigrew, Peter, and Potter, James."

A highly polished collection of chains and manacles hung on the wall behind Filch's desk. It was common knowledge that he was always begging Dumbledore to let him suspend students by their ankles from the ceiling.

Filch grabbed a quill from a pot on his desk and began shuffling around looking for parchment. He sneezed loudly.

"Mr. Filch, Professor Snape and I just brewed a fresh batch of Pepper-Up Potion last night. Have you been to the Hospital Wing for one?"

"You brew with Professor Snape?" the weasley looking man asked. He looked very suspicious.

"Well, yes. He's my guardian. So he gets me to help out with a lot of the extra brewing."

"Hmm…"

"I'd even be happy to go and get you one if you like. I really am sorry about tracking mud. I just don't understand why a quick spell couldn't clean it up, it's just mud."

Filch now looked very angry. He went back to looking for parchment. "Dung," he muttered furiously, "great sizzling dragon bogies… frog brains… rat intestines… I've had enough of it… make an example… where's that form… yes."

He retrieved a large roll of parchment from his desk drawer and stretched it out in front of him, dipping his long black quill into the ink pot."

" _Name_ … Harriet Potter. _Crime_ … befouling the castle… _suggested sentence_ …"

Dabbing at his streaming nose, Filch squinted unpleasantly at Harri, who waited with bated breath for her sentence to fall.

But as Filch lowered his quill, there was a great BANG! On the ceiling of the office, which made the oil lamp rattle.

"PEEVES!" Filch roared, flinging down his quill in a transport of rage. "I'll have you this time, I'll have you!"

And without a backward glance at Harri, Filch ran flat-footed from the office, Mrs. Norris streaking alongside him.

Peeves was the school poltergeist, a grinning, airborne menace who lived to cause havoc and distress. Harri didn't much like Peeves, but couldn't help feeling grateful for his timing. Hopefully, whatever Peeves had done (and it sounded as though he'd wrecked something very big this time) would distract Filch from Harri.

Thinking that she should probably wait for Filch to come back, Harri sank into the moth-eaten chair next to the desk. There was only one thing apart from her half-completed form: a large glossy purple enveloped with silver lettering on the front. Harri picked it up, and almost opened it. But that felt rude, so she set it back down.

Harri turned instead to the filing cabinet. There was her father's name, written alongside his friends. Harri thought of the picture she had from her parent's wedding, and of the four men who looked so happy. At school, it appeared that they had been real trouble makers. She wondered what they had gotten up to. Harri wanted to slide open the drawer and rifle through the papers. Would Filch let her if she asked? Probably not. He wasn't known for doing a kindness to a student.

What if she peaked in now?

Before she could do anything, she heard shuffling footsteps outside. Filch was returning. When he opened the door, he looked triumphant.

"That Vanishing Cabinet was extremely valuable!" he was saying gleefully to Mrs. Norris. "We'll have Peeves out this time, my sweet-"

His eyes fell on Harri and then darted to the purple envelope, which Harri realized too late, was lying two feet away from where it had started.

Filch's pasty face went brick red. Filch hobbled across to his desk, snatched up the envelope, and threw it into a drawer.

"Have you- did you read-?" he sputtered.

"No," Harri told him firmly. "I wouldn't. I'm sorry, I picked it up because I thought the purple envelope was a nice brand of stationery," she fibbed.

Filch's knobbly hands were twisting together.

"If I thought you'd read my private- not that it's mine- for a friend- be that as it may- however-"

Harri was staring at him, alarmed; Filch had never looked crazier. His eyes were popping, a tic was going in one of his pouchy cheeks, and the tartan scarf didn't help.

"Very well- go- and don't breathe a word- not that- however, if you didn't read- go, now, I have to write up Peeves' report- go-"

Amazed at her luck, Harri sped out of the office, up the corridor, and back upstairs. To escape from Filch's office without punishment was probably some kind of school record.

"Harriet! Harriet! Did it work?"

Nearly Headless Nick came gliding out of a classroom. Behind him, Harri could see the wreckage of a large black and gold cabinet that appeared to have been dropped from a great height.

"I persuaded Peeves to crash it right over Filch's office," said Nick eagerly. "Thought it might distract him-"

"Was that you?" said Harri gratefully. "Yeah, it worked, I didn't even get detention. Thanks, Nick!"

They set off up the corridor together. Nearly Headless Nick, Harri noticed, was still holding Sir Patrick's rejection letter.

"I wish there was something I could do for you about the Headless Hunt," Harri said.

Nearly Headless Nick stopped in his tracks and Harri walked right through him. She wished she hadn't' it was like stepping through an icy shower.

"But there _is_ something you could do for me," said Nick excitedly. "Harriet- would I be asking too much- but no, you said you were doing something on Samhain."

"Oh… well yes, I am. I'm meeting the Headmaster at four."

Nick's face fell. "Well, this Halloween will be my five hundredth death day. I'm having a party down in one of the roomier dungeons. Friends will be coming from all over the country. It would have been such an _honor_ if you could have attended."

"What time does it start?"

"Oh… at seven," said Nick, looking very disappointed.

"Well… I could ask my friends if they would be interested?"

This seemed to perk up Nick. "Yes, I suppose that Mr. Weasley and Mr. Longbottom are from very well known families… perhaps. And word of _their_ bravery along with Miss. Granger has spread about the community. What with that nasty business at the end of last year."

"I'll ask them. I'm sure they'd rather attend a deathday party instead of the feast." Harri mentally hoped this was true because in reality Ron might be annoyed and not want to go at all. Ron did love a good feast.

"Do you think you could get them to mention to Sir Patrick how _very_ frightening and impressive you all find me?"

"Of-of course," said Harri.

Nearly Headless Nick beamed at her.

* * *

"A deathday party?" said Hermione keenly when Harri had changed at last and joined her, Ron, and Neville in the common room. "I bet there aren't many living people who can say they've been to one of those- it'll be fascinating!"

"Why would anyone want to celebrate the day they died?" asked Neville, looking a bit pale at the idea of being around so many ghosts.

Surprisingly, Ron also looked interested in attending. "Luna might like going to that," he said. "She's a strange bird. That's the kind of thing she'd write about for her dad's magazine."

Harri noticed the slight look of hurt on Hermione's face. But it passed quickly. "You should invite her, Ron."

"Yeah, I think I will. Shame about missing the fest. Do you think they have any good food at these types of things."

"Last I checked, the dead don't eat," said Neville. "We should pack food." He gave Harri a mocking glare, "How are you getting out of this again?"

"I told you, I have to meet with Dumbledore. He wants me to do something with him for Samhain."

"That's right strange," said Neville. "I haven't heard of any Light Families celebrating Samhain before. Gran only cares about Yule and Summer Solstice."

"But a Deathday Party will be nearly as good," said Hermione with conviction. "And Harri will tell us everything about Samhain."

"As much as I can," said Harri, certain that she had the better event to attend.

* * *

By the time Halloween arrived, Harri had a permanent nauseated feeling in her stomach at the thought of joining the Headmaster for the Samhain ritual. Everyone around her was very cheerful and didn't understand her dampened demeanor.

The Great Hall had been decorated with the usual live bats, Hagrid's vast pumpkins had been carved into lanterns large enough for three men to sit in, and there were rumors that Dumbledore had booked a troupe of dancing skeletons for the entertainment.

It was with heavy feet, that Harri made her way to the Headmaster's office just before four. Dumbledore had instructed her to wear the most simple light-colored clothing that she owned. Homespun if she had it. Harri didn't own anything as basic as that, but she did own a thick linen robe in cream and a woolen cloak in grey.

Walking only gave Harri time to think. She felt as if she was missing something. She just couldn't puzzle out why Dumbledore would want her to join him this evening. The only answer that she could think of was ridiculous. It was a crazy thought, and one that she hoped was very wrong.

Dumbledore was waiting for her in front of his Gargoyle. Its ugly grin was as sickening as her own nervous thoughts.

"Ah, good. Harri. Right on time. We need to get to the grounds before sunset. It will be a long night for us, I'm afraid. It's good you dressed warmly."

Dumbledore was wearing a thick woolen white cloak. His usual flamboyant robes were eschewed in favor of homespun undyed robes. He looked rather modest, except for the belt around his waist which was a rope of unicorn hair.

Here then was the Lord of Light.

It was usually so easy to forget that Dumbledore was not just a typical wizard. Sure, the students all knew the titles. They all knew that he had defeated Grindelwald, that he was the Supreme Mugwump and Chief Warlock. Most of the time he seemed like a doddering old man who was a little mad.

Tonight, he was radiating a slight aura. Harri could feel his power bumping against her. Her eyes began to prickle, her nose began to itch, and her magic felt like it was pushing out from under her skin.

Something about the rush of power eased her nerves. She managed a nod at the Professor, and let her mind get lost in the swirling push and pull of magic as they walked towards the Great Hall. It was a familiar and yet alien sensation all at once.

When they stepped out into the brisk evening it was nearly sunset. The orange and pink of the sky felt somehow heightened. Like her prickling eyes could see more clearly than they ever had before. She didn't have long to meditate on this though, Dumbledore's pace was quick and she had to move fast to keep up.

Dumbledore led the way down to the village, and once they were past the gates of Hogwarts reached for her hand.

"We will be apparating tonight. It's all prepared at the site, so we will begin at once. As soon as the sun fully sets, we will begin." That couldn't be more than five minutes from now. "I should warn you, Harri, there is no metal allowed in the ritual circle. Take off your wrist covering before entering. I'll explain the rest as we go."

The sick feeling in her stomach grew. She had made a personal vow to never look at those words again.

With a slight squeeze of the hand, Dumbledore apparated. It felt like being squeezed through a very small straw. Her ears popped, and they appeared on a narrow land bridge. On both sides there was sea, and in front of them, a henge.

A large circular henge. There were about 30 large stones, all several meters from each other. It was a little lighter here, Harri assumed that they had come further south. Sunset was probably ten minutes away.

"Welcome to the Ring of Brodgar," Dumbledore told her. He began to make his way into the circle.

Harri gripped her wrist and pulled off the silver covering. Bracing herself, she looked down. She never took off the covering on her wrist, even to shower. In the fading light, she could just make out the words Lord Voldemort had left on her.

She looked around for a place to leave her covering and found a large flat stone not too far from the henge. It would have to do. Otherwise, she wore no jewelry.

Unadorned, she followed Dumbledore into the ritual circle.

He was in the center and was building up a fire. There was a large pile of firewood beside him, as well as a basket, several candles, and several pillows. The light from the flames grew as Dumbledore built the fire by hand, and darkness finally fell.

"We come to pay tribute to the dead. We come to pay homage to those who are lost in the night. We come to bring light. Spirits, find our circle and find your way through the veil," Dumbledore said in a calm voice.

He took a bone knife from a pocket in his cloak and sliced across his hand. He allowed blood to fall into the fire.

It sparked and turned blindly white. There was a rush of wind, a howl that seemed to echo around the entire henge.

"Let the offering of the living help to stir the dead," Dumbledore said. The fire faded back to its usual color, but it was still very bright. He then passed the bone knife to Harri.

"No need for much blood," he told her. "Yours is far more precious than mine. A small nick will be plenty," he explained.

Normally the idea of blood sacrifice would be daunting, but it felt very natural to take the knife and let it graze against her palm. It was very sharp and did not hurt more than a slight sting. Blood welled easily to the surface of her split skin. Harri lifted her hand over the fire and let her blood flow into it.

Once again it sparked and turned hot white. The words came out of their own accord, "Let magic move you, come and find the veil, find your peace."

"Oh very good," Dumbledore told her with a smile. He seemed jubilant. Harri herself could feel a slight giddiness bubbling up inside her. She felt the desire to dance around the fire. It was too tempting to resist. She felt herself leap and bound around the bonfire. She felt like a gleeful doe. Dumbledore let out a carefree chuckle and clapped for her when she stopped, out of breath.

"Sir, what's going on?" Harri asked between gasps for air.

"One of my duties is to help the dead move from this realm to the next," he told her. "On Samhain, the veil between our world and the next becomes the thinnest."

"So the fire is to help light the way?"

"Yes, and the blood is to give spirits grounding."

"And the magic…. Why is my magic like this, sir?"

"Hmmm," Dumbledore hummed. "I'm afraid that has something to do with it reacting to mine. The magic acts as a beacon. The spirits of the dead can be pulled toward the convalescence. I'm sure you heard me referred to as the 'Light Lord' a time or two."

"Yes, sir. Remus Lupin explained it to me over the summer."

"Well, there is some truth to the title. It isn't to say that I am somehow a fully light wizard. My magic is just as capable of darkness as anyone else. However, my magic has a natural pull on magic users. It can act as an expander of an individual's light magic."

"So… my magic is acting this way because your magic is having acting as a magnet?"

"A bit."

"And because you're the Light Lord you have to come out here and do this ritual? Ron and Neville told me that you weren't at the Halloween feast last year."

"No, but hold on for a moment Harri. Our fire is dying down. We must keep it built up. The next part of the ritual won't take place until after midnight. Until then we are stewards of the fire."

Harri helped Dumbledore put more logs on the fire. The bonfire was built up into a pleasant roar. Dumbledore moved towards one of the pillows and sat. It was nice and warm near the fire, and Harri was glad to sit as well. Dumbledore pulled open the basket.

"I had the house elves prepare a little something for us. It's usually a night for feasting. How do you feel about meat pie?"

Pie sounded very good to Harri, who happily accepted a slice from the aged Professor.

"Now, to answer your questions, Harri. Yes, I do this ritual every year. It is of utmost importance that I am at this henge at Samhain. Everything should come second to that. There are other henges though, for other magical moments. For Samhain, Yule, the Spring Equinox, and the Summer Solstice."

"The four magical holidays. I've heard some of the other students talk about Yule and the Summer Solstice."

"Yes. Some families have their own rituals. The one that I perform, and the one that the Dark Lord preforms, are the ones that have the most, if any, importance."

"So the Dark Lord should be here too?"

"Yes. As far as I know, Voldemort is the current Dark Lord. Despite his wraith-like state. He should be performing his own ritual in tandem with ours. Another fire burning in the night."

"What happens if he doesn't perform the ritual?"

Dumbledore looked very grave. "Balance is an important thing in magic. Peace between light and dark needs to be achieved. Without light and dark functioning in tandem, the pull of my magic is diminished for those who are called to the light. You only have to look at our Ministry to see that things are not in balance."

Harri was stunned to hear Dumbledore describe it like that. "You need to work with Voldemort?"

Dumbledore grimaced. "No. Not I. When I was young there was another Dark Lord of another time. We were two sides of the same coin. "

"Grindelwald."

"Yes. We tried to work together the way magic called us to. Or maybe it doesn't truly call for working together. It felt as if magic was ripping us apart as well. Either way, it wasn't possible. We both made mistakes that ripped us apart. I believe you know the rest."

"You bound his magic."

"Thus the next Dark Lord was called."

"Why wouldn't you need to work with Voldemort? If you're the Lord of Light and he's the Dark Lord."

"It wasn't my tasking. My job was to keep the dark at bay until the time of my successor." He fixed Harri with that piercing blue gaze of his.

Harri felt the sinking feeling in her gut. It was almost an answer to her question. She couldn't bring herself to ask it though. She asked a different question then, one that suddenly occurred to her.

"I thought Voldemort attacked my family on Halloween. Why would he do that if he was supposed to be here?"

It was not the question Dumbledore had been expecting. "Oh Harri, how to explain Lord Voldemort to you. He was not always mad you know. Once he was the most promising student to ever walk through the doors of Hogwarts. He came into his power soon after I bound Grindelwald's. I had suspected that he might be Gellert's successor. I was quickly proven correct. He always had a natural affinity for the Dark, and many of his school mates felt pulled to him. He was young, handsome, and full of promise.

Then after graduation, instead of pursuing his position in magic, he took a job at a shop. He began to travel. He did not return to our territory to perform the rituals as he should have."

"Wait," Harri interrupted, "your territory?"

"Surely you didn't think that Voldemort and I are the only magical beings called to represent balance? Europe has its hinges and magical mythology. But we would not be able to touch the magic of Africa, Asia, or the Americas. It's very different. A different belief went into building it. Layers upon layers of faith and history twist together on those soils. It would have nothing of me."

"This hinge then, it represents a corner of your territory?"

"Indeed. There are three others. I will be showing them to you this year."

There was the opening again. The moment where she should be asking the question he obviously wanted her to. She couldn't. Instead, Harri got up and threw a few more logs on the bonfire.

"You were saying that Voldemort didn't attend to the rituals?"

"Yes," said Dumbledore, continuing. "He would come some of the time, but he had little issue with missing. He was quite firm with me that it wasn't important as long as it was me representing the light.

Then he heard something that chilled him to the bone. Do you know what Voldemort translates to in French, Harriet?"

"No, I didn't realize that it meant anything."

"It means, 'Flight from Death'. Voldemort has never been interested in dying. I've never been sure of the exact means he has used to prevent his death, but as we can see, he was successful in preventing it.

In August of 1981, Voldemort heard something that frightened him. A rumor of a child that would bring about his downfall. On Samhain that year, the night he should have been here, he took the opportunity to find and attack you."

Harri rubbed her wrist. She thought of the question that might answer what Dumbledore was baiting her to ask. Soulmates were the center of all this, weren't they? She and Voldemort were tied together somehow. What if Dumbledore had once been tied together with someone just as tightly. Just as horribly.

"Was Gellert Grindelwald your soulmate?"

He didn't look surprised by Harri's question. Or annoyed. He just mildly replied, "You should ask the real question, Harri. It does you no good to bait for the truth."

"Am I your successor to the Light?"

"Yes."


	27. Memoriae: The Writing on the Wall

Harri was asleep.

The young girl had usurped three pillows and was laying with her cloak clutched tightly around her. The air was brisk, but Dumbledore made sure to keep the fire warm. She had drifted off at around three in the morning. She had performed the candle ceremony with him just after midnight. They had let the embers of the fire go low, just the faint light illuminating the clearing. Then taking the candles, they had lit them with their magic. He had shown her how to build the flame higher and higher until their two candle flames met in an arch. They had walked back, expanding their archway until it stretched from one end of the Ring to the other.

He had been impressed by her control. He had only needed to nudge at her magic to keep it focused on the flame. Despite the sweat that broke out on her forehead, she had kept her side of the flame well maintained.

He had called on the spirits to cross over the veil. At halfway between sunset and sunrise, the veil was the thinnest and easiest to cross. Dumbledore had directed their arch of flame to go convex, shooting into the bonfire. The tower of flame would need very little keeping for the rest of the night.

Harri was dazed after that, magically exhausted and too young for what he was showing her. It had been an agonizing debate. Dumbledore had been planning to wait. Would fifteen have been better? Or even seventeen, when she was no longer a child and at her age of majority.

He had decided not, so it was twelve. Not a good age from outside appearances. Yet, on a deeper level, it was perfect. Agora's Numeric Principal held that the sum of numbers also held power. Harri, twelve, was a three. Albus, at one hundred and eleven, was also a three. Three was a strong number, the first prime number of multitudes. Three was a number of good fortune, of teamwork, of life cycles. Past, Present, Future; Birth, Life, Death; Beginning, Middle, End.

Wand, Stone, Cloak.

Albus had been fifteen when the magic had called him. There had not been a teacher. Magenta Tripe-Black had been a sick and bedridden witch by the end. When she had died in the summer of 1896 no one had any idea who would follow her as the Lady of Light. Only, it hadn't been a Lady. Several generations had passed since a Lord of Light, but no one was overly surprised that it was Dumbledore who had felt the call to visit the four sacred sites. He had followed magic's call and smeared his blood on the ritual stones. He had given his body to the Earth and had returned to his sixth year of school more powerful than he could have dreamed.

Having no mentor had not been the best thing for him. He had believed himself the paragon of good, a man who would know best for other people. Albus Dumbledore was going to take the world by storm and lead the Wizarding World into a new era of light.

That hadn't been what awaited his graduation.

Instead, his mother had died. Ariana, his poor, sweet, obscurial sister, had needed him. Aberforth was still too young to take on the burden, he was in school. It had fallen to Albus, who felt he should have been out exploring the world and coming into his own. He had resented everything and everyone. There were no prizes in looking after your half-mad sister.

Then, Gellert had appeared.

Beautiful, blonde, and blue-eyed Gellert Grindelwald. He had been in Godric's Hollow to 'visit' his aunt, but really he had been there to discover what he could about the Deathly Hallows. When the brilliant boy had come knocking he had been sixteen and bright as the sun.

"Excuse me, are you Herr Dumbledore?"

Albus's world changed.

Albus had met Gellert before he came into his power as the Dark Lord. The young man had no idea of his future. It was to his own great elation that Albus could share the news with the boy. Two men united for the betterment of the world. Surely this would be the strongest union between Light and Dark that had ever occurred. Stronger than silly Magenta Tripe and Licorus Black. Stronger than Godric Gryffidnor and Salazar Slytherin. Stronger than Merlin and Morgana Le'Fay.

It had been foolish arrogance.

How could he have believed so fully in the 'greater good'? The notion that all of his ends would justify the means. The idea that he, Albus Dumbledore, had power- and therefore had the right to remake the Wizarding World in his image. How could he have ignored what Gellert Grindelwald was? He had closed his eyes and dreamed of making all their fantasies come to fruition.

He ignored Ariana and Abeforth in favor of discussing the united Deathly Hallows, muggle suppression, and a future ruled by the invincible and united Lords of Magic.

Admirable Abeforth had stepped in and tried to clear Albus' head. The result; his brother tortured and his sister dead. Gellert had fled, and the two Dumbledore brothers had never been able to repair their relationship in the wake of pain and loss.

The responsibility of his sister was gone, but the guilt would last a lifetime.

He saw Gellert again on Samhain 1898. Gellert had come into his power, performed the rites magic required, and given his body to the Fire. Gellert was the newly anointed Dark Lord who Albus could not forgive, but could not bring himself to raise a wand against. Albus refused to speak to the man, and they spent four nights a year at odds with one another. If they had spoken, if Albus could have performed the duty that magic was asking of him, could that Great War have been prevented? He would never know.

When the war started in 1940, Dumbledore stayed hidden at Hogwarts. It was the job as the Lord of Light to balance the Dark. By shirking his duties and letting Gellert run wild the balance was permanently in tatters. There was no recovery for the two men, and magic would need to wait for its next victims to repair itself. They were Twin Flames of magic, and the only way to stop Gellert was to bind his magic or kill him. Gellert Grindelwald was hauled off to Numengard cursing Dumbledore's name. The only man he ever loved, his soulmate, would hate him for the rest of his life.

Dumbledore looked across the fire at the sleeping girl before him. What mistakes could he save her from?

Already she had been wiser than he had. True, no pretty face had tempted her, but she had stood up to Voldemort and refused to join him. She had stood more bravely at eleven years old than Dumbledore had at fifty. Could the small girl before him mend the rift in magic that he and Gellert had caused?

No. Almost certainly not. Not with the way that Lord Voldemort acted. There was dark magic afoot. Voldemort had only ever wanted to live forever. With Harri, that possibility was horribly real. There were perversions of the soulmate bond that could be enacted. Ways of hiding a soul from death that bound one permanently to the Earth. It was strictly banned, the evilest sort of crime.

Would Lord Voldemort attempt to rip Harriet Potter's soul away from her body? Would he try to hide his own inside of her?

Voldemort would certainly attempt the creation of two living Horcruxes who could never die. The Lord and Lady of Magic would be eternal and terrible. The meaning of the prophecy that Sybil Trawlaney had given him years ago was layered with depth that made Dumbledore's hands clench in frustration.

He could only prepare her. Give her what information he could, tell her of his mistakes, and hope that Love would be the magic that saved Magical Europe. Dumbledore mentally debated about when he would tell her what Voldemort wanted with her soul. Would there ever be a good time? Was anyone ever ready for such news?

Dumbledore knew that twelve was too young. How many years did Harri Potter have left though? When would Voldemort's next plan begin? Even now the Dark Lord could be gathering his power. Dumbledore just needed to stay alive as long as he could, teach the girl what magic expected of her, and pray to the Green Mother that Voldemort would not succeed.

Too much weight rested on the sleeping girl before him.

It was a tragedy.

* * *

When Harri and Dumbledore returned to the castle they were met with a grim-faced Professor McGonagall.

"Albus, there has been trouble," she told him. Bitterly cold and stiff to the bone, Harri wanted nothing more than to crawl into bed after a hot shower. A well-rested Harri would want to linger and listen in to what the adults were saying, but she was too tired to hear what nonsense the students had gotten up to last night.

When they came to the second floor of the marble staircase, Dumbledore and McGonagall, speaking quietly, turned down the corridor. Harri continued the long climb up to the seventh floor and Gryffindor Tower.

No one was awake, the common room was empty in the glower of early morning light. The fire had long died out, the hearth was cold.

Harri climbed the steps to the girl dormitory and found her roommates all asleep. Harri changed quickly and was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

She dreamed of fire.

Of a man, dark and handsome, hissing words that she did not understand.

He looked at her, and his eyes were red as the fire that seemed to be consuming her.

He opened his mouth, and it was her name that came out.

"HARRI"

Harri woke with a gasp and was blinded by the light of late morning sun. Hermione was standing over her, looking annoyed.

"I've been trying to wake you up for ages! You'll never believe what's happened!"

"Have I missed breakfast?" Harri asked sleepily.

"Never mind breakfast," said Hermione. "Someone attacked Mrs. Norris!"

"Why would someone attack a cat?" asked Harri, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

"That's not all, it's… well, it's a bit gruesome. Ron, Neville, and I went by after breakfast to see. The whole school has gone to see it I think."

"The cat attack is gruesome?" Harri asked making a face. "Why would you want to go see that?"

"NO! It must have happened last night. But someone saw it on the second floor this morning. And then it got around that Mrs. Norris is in the Hospital Wing. Apparently, she was found at the scene. It's...well it's written in blood apparently."

"Hermione, what is written in blood?" It had taken Harri a while to catch on, but it must have been something really strange to make Hermione this inarticulate.

"It's the Chamber of Secrets! Someone has written on the wall of the second-floor corridor 'The Chamber of Secrets has been opened. Enemies of the Heir, Beware'."

"No." The Chamber of Secrets was a myth. Harri couldn't remember the specifics, but she knew that she had read about it and that the school had been checked multiple times.

"YES! Do you have your copy of _Hogwarts a History?_ I left mine at home, and all the library's copies have been checked out."

Harri did, but it wasn't very helpful.

 _"Long has the rumor of the Chamber of Secrets clung to Hogwarts. The myth that Slytherin built a secret chamber at the school is highly unlikely. The school has gone through several major renovations (such as the introduction of plumbing, the conversion to a modern kitchen, and building the West Wing), but no chamber has ever been found. While very powerful, the Dark Lord Slytherin could not have successfully hidden such a project from Lord of Light, Gryffindor."_

"That's useless," Hermione groused.

Harri shrugged, "Are we sure it isn't just a prank? It was Halloween."

"It was no prank. Harri, Mrs. Norris wasn't just attacked. She was petrified!"

"Petrified? You mean someone turned her to stone?"

"I don't know if it was true stone or just a stone-like state. I heard Percy Weasley while he was talking to Penelope Clearwater that Mrs. Norris was petrified. They're both prefects."

"I can only think of a few ways that someone could be petrified. A medusa for one."

"You think a medusa is running around the school?"

"Or…" but something stopped Harri from finishing her thought. There was a creature that was able to petrify. She was sure of it, but it was like her mind went foggy and she couldn't quite remember what it was.

"Or?"

"I don't know," said Harri slowly. "I think… I've forgotten it. We'll have to research I suppose."

"I'll meet you in the library and we'll get started. Neville and Ron say it's just a prank, that it isn't anything to worry about." Hermione began to bite her lower lip. "I'm scared, Harri."

"It really may turn out to be nothing," Harri tried to assure.

"Harri, I'm muggle-born. I don't know if you can understand this since your family is all magical. You're the Girl-Who-Live. Dumbledore takes you to special rituals. Professor Snape loops you into secret projects. No one questions your right to be here. People hate me for no reason at all. And now some monster might be on the loose with the express purpose of getting rid of muggleborns. I know that's the myth of the Chamber, I can remember that much."

"I won't let anything happen to you. The teachers won't either."

"How can you know that Hari?"

"Because it's what's right and decent!"

"If there is one thing that I've learned from Draco Malfoy and his Slytherin friends, it's that right and decent don't mean a thing in the Wizarding World."

* * *

Harri wouldn't be available to meet her in the library until after lunch. She had promised Professor Snape that she would check in with him after Samhain.

Hermione made a mental note to ask Harri more about the ritual when she had the chance. The Chamber of Secrets had taken up all of Hermione's headspace, and she hadn't left room for Harri's Samhain Sojourn.

Rather than go straight to the library like she usually would, Hermione decided that she would go back to the second-floor corridor to look at the scene of the crime. As much information as possible would help narrow down their search.

Hermione had a scientific brain. She knew she couldn't begin to form a proper hypothesis about all this without gathering data. The facts needed to be established for any kind of reliable theory to be formed.

She was amazed to find the corridor empty when she made it down the five flights of stairs. After breakfast, the corridor had been full of students hoping to get a look. Filch had been angrily scrubbing at the words, but it appeared he had been unsuccessful because he was no longer there.

"The Chamber of Secrets Has Been Opened."

Hermione dropped her bag and got to her hands and knees so that she could crawl along, and search for clues.

"Scorch marks," she whispered.

What could leave marks on the stone? They were impervious to most magic. A student would be hard pressed to do something like this.

"We'll have to see if Dumbledore can cure Mrs. Norris," she mused to herself. "If he can't, whatever attacked her might not be human."

Hermione dug around in her bag and pulled out some spare parchment to write her observations down on.

 _November 1, 1992_

 _Notes of 'Chamber of Secrets' 1st Petrification Site_

 _Scorch marks around the base of the wall_ _Words are written in a substance that cannot be removed by Filch (magically stuck to the wall? Filch always cleans using muggle methods)_

Hermione looked around again.

"Oh, that's strange,"

Hermione got up and crossed to the window next to the message on the wall. On the topmost pane, there were around twenty spiders scuttling, apparently fighting to get through a small crack. A long silvery thread was dangling like a rope, as though they had all climbed it in their hurry to get outside.

 _Spiders acting strangely. Trying to escape?_

Hermione didn't see anything else in the corridor. What else was there to do? Was there a witness to question? Her eyes landed on the bathroom door marked "Out of Order."

Myrtle.

Hermione had been at the Death Day Party last night and couldn't recall seeing Moaning Myrtle. Had she been here, just outside the crime scene?

Hermione entered the bathroom. It was very gloomy. Under a large, cracked, and spotted mirror were a row of shipped sinks. The floor was damp and reflected the dull light given off by the stubs of a few candles, burning low in their holders; the wooden doors to the stalls were flaking and scratched and one of them wad angling off its hinges.

No one used this bathroom unless that had to. Hermione usually avoided it, but at times it couldn't be helped. On the way from Potions to Charms, this was the most convenient restroom. There was never any wait.

Hermione set off toward the end stall. "Hello, Myrtle, how are you?" she asked. Moaning Myrtle was floating above the tank on the toilet, picking a spot on her chin.

"What are you doing here?" Myrtle asked, looking surprised to see her.

"Well, I was just looking at the corridor outside the restroom. I was wondering if you saw anything last night?"

"No," said Myrtle dramatically. "I wasn't paying attention. Peeves upset me so much I came in here and tried to _kill_ myself. Then, of course, I remembered that I'm- that I'm-"

Hermione had played this game before, and tried to say very gently, "I'm so sorry that Peeves hurt your feelings, Myrtle."

"My life was nothing but misery at this place, and now no matter what happens people come along ruining my death," the ghost began to cry with thick translucent tears flowing down her cheeks.

Myrtle gave a tragic sob, rose up in the air, turned over, and dived into the toilet, splashing water all over her and vanished from sight, although from the direction of her muffled sobs, she had come to rest somewhere in the U-bend.

"That was almost cheerful for her," Hermione groused, stepping out of the stall. With a wave of her wand, Hermione cast a drying charm. Should she go change into new robes? No, a cleaning charm would stop anything from smelling.

Hermione glanced into the spotted mirror at her hair as she passed. It was frizzier than usual from the water. There wasn't a spell that could help with that. Magic and her hair just didn't mix. Lavender Brown had suggested a hair care charm at the end of first year. Hermione had tried it in private, but her hair had just absorbed the magic, becoming even bushier than usual.

She exited the bathroom and made her way back towards the end of the corridor. She would head down to the library and start looking into creatures that cause petrification. Myrtle had been a dead end, but if she got a few options ready hopefully it would be clear what did this when the next attack happened.

Hermione had no doubt that another attack was coming.

So certain, in fact, that when someone pulled her into a broom closet as she passed by Hermione was certain that she was about to be a victim.

She reached for her wand on reflex but wasn't fast enough. Both her wrists were held tight.

"What do you think you're doing," she said with indignation, trying to make out who had pulled her into the closet.

Her eyes adjusted to the gloom, and she had out a pointed face and silvery blond hair.

"Get off me, Malfoy," Hermione said sharply.

"Shush, Granger," he hissed. "You'll get us found out."

"Found out?" she said, not shushing in the slightest. "Are you worried your little Slytherin friends will find you alone with me?"

"Yes," he said nastily. "And I need to talk to you, so shut it."

"I will not. Give me one good reason to not leave right now."

"The Chamber of Secrets."

Hermione held back her reply. Malfoy wanted to talk about the Chamber? Fine then, he could talk.

"That's better," he said. "Now, where is that book my father gave you?"

"What book? What does that have to do with the Chamber of Secrets?" Hermione realized that Malfoy was still holding her wrists and she wrenched them away from him.

"Don't be daft," he said. "In Flourish and Blotts. My father slipped you a book."

"No, he didn't."

"I saw him do it!" Malfoy hissed.

"Why would your father give me a book?" Hermione asked, feeling a sinking feeling.

"Gee Granger, I don't know. Maybe it has something to do with us being soulmates. He's not exactly pleased." Malfoy rarely referred to their connection. He spent most of his time belittling Hermione for her heritage.

"So you think he gave me something that has to do with the Chamber of Secrets?"

"No, I KNOW he gave you something. He went on about it all summer. How he'd get rid of you. You're quite the upstart Mudblood you know. Know-it-all top of the class. Friends with the Girl-Who-Wouldn't-Die. A Malfoy for a Soulmate. You're a real status chaser by any appearance."

Hermione turned to leave. Malfoy grabbed her wrist again.

"Will you stay put!"

"Not if you're going to insult me, Malfoy. I am NOT a status chaser. Just because you have sour grapes that I beat you in class…"

"And could you not? You wouldn't believe how much I heard about that this summer. 'If your grades don't pick up, Draco, you won't be a fit Malfoy heir.' Second in the class and that's what he has to say to me!"

"Ha," Hermione let out with a smirk.

"Yes, Ha. Well now he wants you dead, so maybe don't laugh about it. Now, where is the book?"

"I don't have any strange…" but Hermione remembered suddenly. She had thrown her new Advanced Transfiguration book outside of Flourish and Blotts. Harri had picked up the small book that had slid out. Harri had hidden it away when everyone came outside. Harri hadn't mentioned it again.

"Remember now, do you?"

"Malfoy what does that book have to do with the Chamber of Secrets?" Hermione couldn't keep the slight hint of fear out of her voice.

"I'm not sure," he said. "Look, Granger, all I know is that my father said that he was going to give you something that would set all of Slytherin's wrath against you. He said it would take care of the family mudblood problem. Now that," he waved his hand indicating the writing on the wall, "has shown up. It has to be connected."

"It does," Hermione agreed. "But I don't have that book anymore. I never touched it."

"Who has it then?"

"Harri."

"Bloody Potter has gone and opened the Chamber of Secrets. Of course," Malfoy said with a groan.

"No, she hasn't."

"How do you know? None of you were at the feast last night."

"I was at a Death Day Party and Harri was with Dumbledore."

"Dumbledore took Potter to Samhain?" Malfoy asked, looking very surprised.

"Yes," Hermione said.

Malfoy let out a low whistle. "That is news."

"Don't tell anyone. It's private."

He looked conflicted for a moment, but resolve took over. "Not like there is anyone I'd want to tell."

"Not even your father?" Hermione jeered.

"Obviously not, I'm talking to you, aren't I?"

"In a broom closet, where no one can see. Can't have anyone know you associate with a Muggleborn, can you?"

"Just stop harping on that for a moment, will you Granger? I don't want you dead, okay? You're MY soulmate, and that isn't any of my father's business. I don't like you, but you don't need to DIE. We need to do something. Potter has the book. Potter must have done this last night."

"Harri isn't the Heir of Slytherin. They're the only ones with the power to open the Chamber."

"Look, Granger. I don't know how it happened. I don't know about heirs of Slytherin, or monsters in secret chambers. All I know is my father said that what he gave you could bring down Slytherin's wrath. There's blood on the wall. You'll be next if you aren't careful."

Hermione met Malfoy's cold grey eyes and felt a chill of fear run down her spine.

"What should we do?"


	28. Memoriae: Choices

The soul fragment of Tom Riddle Jr. was not truly sentient.

He was alive, but things like time and isolation did not reach him. His main purpose was to lie in wait until the larger soul had need of him. He could wait for fifty years or fifty thousand, it would make no difference to him. Eventually, he would be used or destroyed, and then he would meld back into the larger soul. Any knowledge or insight he had gained while separated would belong to the main soul. He had no real desire to escape the confines of the diary, for an aspect of the Horcrux's magic was to want to be separate until the purpose of preventing death was achieved. No, the fragment's only purpose was to be of use to the main soul. From what the Horcrux understood, the main soul was in need of him. So he needed to get strong, become corporeal, and find Lord Voldemort.

Most of all, he needed to present Lord Voldemort with Harriet Potter.

Oh, Harriet.

How many times had he lain awake at night wondering who 'Liar' was? It had been so exciting to think that his future witch would be able to see through him so quickly. Tom Riddle had presented the perfect picture, the ideal young wizard. He had longed for 'Liar' to appear just so that his true face would be known to one person. Someone he could terrorize and posses completely.

He already did possess her. He had reached deep into Harriet's brain and magic. Had explored every nook and cranny. Had found himself in her deepest parts. It had sent a shiver up his spine. She was all marked up from him already. From the lightning bolt on her forehead, his words hidden on her wrist, to the deepest reaches of her soul.

He wanted to look at her, to add more marks to the girl and show her that she was so fully possessed by Lord Voldemort that it didn't matterwhat else she was. First and foremost, she was his.

It wouldn't be very long. Soon, he would present Harriet Potter to Lord Voldemort. She would be used for the purpose of glorifying the dark- as it should be. The future beacon of Light would be used to flood Europe with darkness. He just had to get strong…

It was tedious work. The initial burst of magic that he had gotten from Harriet had been intoxicating. Oh, what he wouldn't give to still be leaching off her magic. It had been so close to his own, truly like mother's milk. He would be corporeal by now if he had been able to keep on with her.

But he couldn't hurt her. If he were to keep draining her magic it would kill her, and he couldn't have that. No, Lord Voldemort would have great need of his little soulmate. With Harriet Potter, the main soul would have no difficulty returning to its all-powerful state. The Horcrux might need to be absorbed in the process, or perhaps there would be enough power for the Horcrux to be returned to the Diary. Either way was perfectly fine, so long as the overarching plans of Lord Voldemort were achieved.

He would have to placate himself with weaker magic for now. He could take from Ginny Weasley, but not as much as he would like. The girl still had to function in class. She couldn't be noticeably different, or Dumbledore might start to suspect that she was being manipulated. The bulk of Ginny's magic would have to be the final push to corporeal form, but it wouldn't be enough to completely achieve it. If she were a witch past her age of majority… well, then she wouldn't be nearly so easy to control. A witch under the age of thirteen was much more biddable.

Thus, the Chamber had to be opened. The Basilisk's deadly gaze could be used to drain Hogwarts students. Petrified or dead, it didn't matter. Either way, there would be a shock of magic as the child met the gaze of the Basilisk, and Tom could use that magical outburst to strengthen himself.

The cat was a good start, to be sure that the magic worked the way that he had hypothesized all those years ago. The mangy kneazle had enough magic for Tom to test his theories without escalating too fast. Dumbledore was gone. Harriet was gone. It was a perfect night to let the Basilisk out. Then with his message, to stir up a little fear that always made the magic taste sweeter, he retreated to the shadows once more. Let them wonder if it was true, let them stew. The next attack would bring him such sweet magic. It would be glorifying to use those little light users. To let them give up their magic in service to the Dark, the way they should. It was the Dark's right to take from the Light.

He would take and take and take.

Then he would present Harriet to Lord Voldemort and be gratified in knowing he had succeeded in his one true purpose.

To deliver the Light into the hands of Darkness.

* * *

Harri was feeling more than a little lost.

The Samhain revelations had escalated the feelings of anxiety that had been coursing through her since the beginning of term. Lady of Light. It was the most ridiculous thing that she had ever heard. She wished that Dumbledore was wrong. Harri didn't want to be Lady of Light. She didn't want to have power over other light users, keep up magical traditions, or have yet another tie to the Dark Lord.

What had Harri done to deserve this?

All she had ever wanted was a safe place. Friends, family, people who didn't hate the sight of her. Harri had never wanted power, had never wanted strangers to look at her, had never wanted to be known.

This whole thing would make more sense if it were someone else. A brilliant witch, a powerful witch, a witch who could control her magic.

A witch that wasn't Harriet Potter.

Harri had passed out twice due to unexplained magical exhaustion in the last two months. Harri was still just as liable to cause an explosion in class as get a spell correct. Harri still flinched at a sudden touch. She was not in any position to lead a faction of the magical community.

The days had ticked by slowly, and Harri felt like she was in a haze. Hermione kept talking about the Chamber of Secrets, and Harri was trying to help, truly. Her mind just couldn't concentrate. It was a hoax, it had to be. All that had happened was a cat got attacked, Hermione was just working herself up over nothing.

All Harri could think about was Samhain. Next would be Yule, then Beltane, and then Midsummer. It would be a ritualistic cycle. She was traped. What if the Dark Lord returned? Eventually, Dumbledore would die and Harri would take his place. She would have to confront the Dark Lord four times a year. It was unconscionable.

Harri spent most of the first week of November avoiding her friends. She didn't want to talk about any of this. It would mean revealing her soulmate to Neville, Ron, and Hermione, an impossibility. She didn't even want to talk to Snape about this.

After Samhain, she had checked in with her guardian only to find him busy planning out ingredient procurement for the Mandrake potion. It had been easy to slide into potioneering mode instead of talking about her future. Snape, blissfully involved in several projects, took Harri's renewed dedication as a sign of maturity instead of something being wrong.

She would just keep to herself, keep her head down, and get through the next few months. Gloomily, Harri wondered if she should start avoiding her friends all together. Wouldn't they be safer away from her? The more alone Harri seemed the less likely someone would get hurt because of her.

* * *

Harri woke early on Saturday morning and lay for a while thinking about the coming Quidditch match. She was nervous, mainly at the thought of what Wood would say if Gryffindor lost, but also at the idea of being on public display. Her desire to be invisible had skyrocketed. After half an hour of lying there with her insides churning, she got up, dressed, and went down to breakfast early, where she found the rest of the Gryffindor team huddled at the long, empty table, all looking uptight and not speaking much.

As eleven o'clock approached, the whole school started to make its way down to the Quidditch stadium. It was a muggy sort of day with a hint of thunder in the air. Ron and Neville came hurrying over to wish Harri good luck as she entered the locker rooms. Hermione was planning to miss the game in favor of staying in the library.

The team pulled on their scarlet Gryffindor robes, then sat down to listen to Wood's usual pre-match pep talk.

"Slytherin has better brooms than us," he began. "No point denying it. But we've got better people on our brooms. We've trained harder than they have, we've been flying in all weather-" ("Too true," muttered George Weasley. "I haven't been properly dry since August") "- and we're going to make them rue the day they let that little bit of slime, Malfoy, buy his way onto their team."

Chest heaving with emotion, Wood turned to Harri.

"It'll be down to you, Harri, to show them that a Seeker has to have something more than a rich father. Get to that Snitch before Malfoy or die trying, Harri, because we've got to win today, we've got to."

"So no pressure, Harri," said Fred, winking at her.

As they walked out onto the pitch, a roar of noise greeted them; mainly cheers, because Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff were anxious to see Slytherin beaten, but the Slytherins in the crowd made their boos and hisses heard, too. Madam Hooch, the Quidditch teacher, asked Flint and Wood to shake hands, which they did, giving each other threatening stares and gripping rather harder than was necessary.

"On my whistle," said Madam Hooch. "Three… two… one…"

With a roar from the crowd to speed them upward, the fourteen players rose toward the leaden sky. Harri flew higher than any of them, squinting around for the Snitch.

It started to rain, but otherwise, it was a very quiet game. The stands were muted in the gray clouds. Harri lost herself in the feel of her broom, in the way flying made her feel as she sped from one side of the pitch to the other looking for that glint of gold.

Even Malfoy shouting the occasional jab didn't bother her.

She needed to concentrate and just find the Snitch. Slytherin's superior brooms were clearly doing the trick, as they currently were in the lead by sixty points.

The rain began to fall more heavily. She slowed down considerably so that she could see through the dark sheets of water.

"Broom break down, Potter? It's to be expected," yelled Malfoy as Harri came to a standstill trying to see through the thick rainfall. She glared over at Mafloy in annoyance, when she saw it- the Golden Snitch. It was hovering inches above Malfoy's left ear- and Malfoy- busy laughing at Harri, hadn't seen it.

For an agonizing moment, Harri hung in midair, not daring to speed toward Malfoy in case he looked up and saw the Snitch.

But this wasn't a time for indecision. She dived for the sneering face below her and saw its eyes wider with fear. Malfoy thought Harri was attacking him.

"What the-" he gasped, careening out of Harri's way.

Harri took her hand off the broom and made a snatch; she felt her fingers close on the cold Snitch.

* * *

When Harri exited the locker room about an hour later, Snape was waiting for her looking very grim.

"Harriet, you need to come with me," he said.

"What? Is something wrong?" Harri asked, surprised. "Is it about the Runespoor potion? Because it shouldn't need me to stir it till tonight."

"It's not about the potion," said Snape looking paler than usual. "Just… just wait. I'll tell you before we go into the Hospital Wing."

"We're going to the Hospital Wing?"

"Harriet! Just follow me."

She felt a bolt of worry jolt down her back. She followed Snape back to the school and up the marble staircase. As they approached the Hospital Wing, Snape found his voice. "This will be a shock," he said. "There has been an attack."

Snape pushed the door open and she entered.

Madam Pomfrey was bending over a bed where a bushy haired girl was laying. In her stiff hands was one of Harri's silver combs.

"Hermione!" Harri gasped. Hermione lay utterly still, her eyes open and glassy.

"She was found in the dungeons," Snape told her. "My wards were activated and I went to investigate. I found her just a little down the corridor. After bringing her here, I realized that she used your hair to get through the wards. Your drawers were very clearly disturbed."

"I don't… what?" Harri asked, confusing filling her.

"Now I am well aware that there isn't a thing in your possession that could cause this," said Snape indicating her friend. "What I want to know, Harriet is why your friend felt the need to go snooping in your private things."

"I- I-... I don't know!" Harri said, trying not to cry. "She's been acting odd over the last few days, but I didn't pay attention! I was… I was in my own world. I have no idea why Hermione would break into your office."

"Who knew that Miss. Granger would not be attending the match?" Snape asked.

"I don't know. Everyone. She was talking about it at breakfast. She said that she wanted to do more research on the Chamber!"

Snape's brows furrowed.

"She said this in the Great Hall?"

"Yes, anyone could have heard her! Do you think a student did this?"

"I'm quite certain that this was not caused by any student, Harri," came Dumbledore's soft voice.

Harri jumped.

Snape gave the Headmaster a severe look. "You should go back to Gryffindor tower, Harriet," Snape told her, pushing her out the door.

"Wait, I want to see Hermione!"

"You can come back tomorrow. There are things I need to discuss with the Headmaster for now. We will talk," said Snape, giving her a meaningful look.

"Headmaster-," Snape began, but Harri couldn't hear as the Hospital Wing door swung shut. Well, that wouldn't do. Hermione was in there, what on Earth was going on? She pushed slightly on the door so that it opened a crack.

"- the Chamber of Secrets is indeed open again," Harri heard Dumbledore say.

Madam Pomfrey let out a little gasp.

"But Albus… surely... Who?"

"The question is not who," said Dumbledore, "The question is, how…"

Harri let the door close softly. How? The Chamber was real? Hermione had been right all along? Of course she had. Hermione was always right. Harri has been so wrapped up in her own fears and worries that she had completely neglected Hermione.

Harri made her way back towards Gryffindor tower.

Why had Hermione been going through her things? If Hermione had been fixated on the Chamber, why would she want to go through Harri's stuff? Harri didn't have anything to do with this.

But…

Hermione must think that Harri did. Why else would she break into Snape's private rooms? He would know if something else had been touched, but had only mentioned Harri's drawers. And someone… someone had known that Hermione was looking into the Chamber.

When she was down in the Dungeons, that someone had attacked her.

Was there an alternative explanation?

The shock began to wear off and Harri felt wet tears make there way down her cheeks. How was she going to tell Ron and Neville about this? How was she going to make it through the rest of the school year without Hermione?

The anxiety that seemed to haunt Harri like a ghost escalated. Her entire body began to shake. She slid down against the wall of the corridor.

She had been an abominable friend. Hermione had been scared, and Harri had ignored her. Now she was laying petrified in the Hospital Wing; her glassy unblinking eyes were fixed in Harri's mind.

Harri was going to be sick.

Why was this happening?

* * *

Draco Malfoy was met with the news that Hermione Granger had been attacked the day after he had lost his first Quidditch Match.

It was fitting.

Draco did not like Hermione Granger. She was bossy, a know-it-all, and shrill. She wasn't very pretty or refined. In fact, her bushy hair and buck teeth brought to mind a beaver. She was a Mudblood, and about the last person in the world Draco wanted to be tied to forever.

She was still his Soulmate.

Despite what his father thought, Draco still couldn't shake the feeling that magic must be onto something if it was her words on his wrist. He had stared at her neat handwriting every day for over a year.

It wasn't random. It had to mean something.

It had been a long summer of hearing how he was a disgrace to the Malfoy name. Second place in school. Tied to a Mudblood. Letters home from Snape about poor comportment.

It had been such a long summer that Draco had gotten rather angry with his father. He had snuck into his father's study to switch his favorite whiskey with one of much lower quality- that would show him- when he had heard footsteps.

Quickly, Draco had hidden under a desk. His parents had entered, speaking in hushed voices.

"Lucius, I really don't know about this. We should wait and see."

"There is no waiting. She needs to be gotten rid of."

"Don't you think that's a bit extreme? It's not a guarantee."

"And do you want to risk one around the house?"

"Of course I don't!" his mother had exclaimed. "But Draco knows better. He would never-"

"Just like your sister would never?"

His mother was very quiet after that.

"And what exactly are you planning to do?" she finally asked.

"I'm going to give her this," said his father. Draco couldn't see what it was, but it must have been something truly nasty because his mother gasped.

"Lucius, if word ever gets back to him …"

"You worry too much, my dear. He said that its purpose was to bring down the wrath of Slytherin on Hogwarts. I think that it's high time this uppity Mudblood sees what that wrath looks like."

Draco stood over Hermione's prone body. He was so angry. He had never been so angry in his life. How dare his father take this choice away from him. Magic had declared that Hermione Granger was his. Whether or not anything came of that was his choice. But like every other choice that should have been Draco's, from getting on the Quidditch team on talent or picking out his own ruddy owl, it had been taken away from him.

There were never choices for Malfoys. Just tradition.

"OYE, Malfoy! You get away from her." It was Weasley and Longbottom.

"Oh? And what will you do about it Weasel?" he drawled.

"I'll curse you again is what I'll do!" said the ginger boy, drawing his wand.

"Ron," said Longbottom, looking exasperated. "Just let it be. He's not going to do anything to her in the Hospital Wing."

Weasley lowered his wand and glared.

"What are you doing here Malfoy?" he asked, voice full of anger.

"The same thing as you, I imagine," Draco said. "Came to see what a Mudblood looks like turned to stone."

Longbottom hit him.

Malfoy landed on the ground hard. He looked up, surprised that the pudgy boy would dare. "She deserves better than you, Malfoy."

Did Hermione Granger deserve better than Draco Malfoy? No, that was laughable. But if this… whatever it was… wasn't stopped there may not be any hope for Granger when she woke up. The potion would be ready before the end of the school year, but what then? Last time… this thing had killed. What if Granger died? Was Draco going to let his father take away the girl that Magic declared his soulmate? Just roll over and let it happen?

Malfoys didn't have choices, but looking up at Weasley and Longbottom, Draco made one anyways.

"You're going to help me stop whatever did this to her," he told them firmly.

The both gaped.


	29. Memoriae: The Dueling Club

"Please stay behind, Miss. Potter," Snape called as Thursday's double potions concluded.

It had been a dreadful week. Harri had spent it avoiding everyone. Ron and Neville had cornered her on more than one occasion, but Harri just raced off. She felt so guilty and sick to her stomach. Hermione was petrified, and Harri couldn't help but blame herself. She had been so wrapped up in her own life, in her own problems, and had ignored Hermione's fear.

"Harriet, I said we'd talk," Snape said with the attempt of a smile. "How are you?"

"Fine," Harri said.

Snape's eye twitched. "Fine…" he hissed letting the word trail off. "Of all the teen slang that has gained popularity, that is perhaps the worse. Fine? Harriet, you have barely been eating. You've been skipping meals, and when you do show up at the Great Hall it is just to sit alone and push your food around."

"I've been eating," Harri tried weakly.

"No. You have not. Now I can understand that you would feel distressed about Miss. Granger's state, but let me assure you…"

"Distressed? Of course, I'm _distressed,_ " Harri spat. "My best friend is lying practically dead in the Hospital Wing."

"LET me assure you, that Miss. Granger will make a full recovery."

"It won't matter! What if it happens again? What if Hogwarts isn't safe anymore!"

"Hogwarts is the safest place on Earth."

"Clearly not!" Harri nearly yelled. "You professors always say that, but bad things happen anyway."

"Sit," Snape said, gesturing to a desk.

Harri glared but sat. Not a short conversation then.

"This is confidential, Harriet. But I will tell you for fear you will do something very foolish if left unchecked. The adults around you are doing there best to resolve the attacks. Professor Dumbledore has some idea about is causing all this," Snape told her. "It happened before, fifty years ago."

"What stopped it then?" Harri asked.

"The alleged perpetrator was caught."

"Alleged?"

"Professor Dumbledore has reason to believe that it was a setup. The student caught was Rubeus Hagrid."

"Hagrid would never attack students!"

"Professor Dumbledore is inclined to agree with you. However, after Hagrid was expelled, the attacks stopped."

"But Hagrid never left Hogwarts. If he was causing the attacks wouldn't they have continued on?"

"Obviously," Snape agreed.

"So… who does Dumbledore think it was?"

"The Heir of Slytherin is the fabled wizard or witch able to open the Chamber. The marker of such an individual would be the ability to speak with snakes," Snape told her carefully. "It is the only trait singular to Salazar Slytherin."

Harri felt her insides grow cold. "I can speak with snakes."

"And did you set a creature on your friend?" Snape asked her with no small amount of sarcasm.

"No," Harri replied with a glare.

"Have you told anyone about your ability, Harriet?" Snape asked with a grave face. "The school would blame you for the attacks if they knew."

"No. I didn't want to mention anything that connected me to… _him!"_

"Have you caught on then?"

"Voldemort? Dumbledore thinks that this is because of Voldemort?"

"There hasn't been another known parsletounge for some fifty years. The Dark Lord was a student during the last set of attacks." Harri couldn't picture Voldemort as a student. All that came to mind was the gruesome face on the back of Quirrell's head dressed up in school robes.

"How could Voldemort be here?" Harri asked, feeling fear trickle down her spine.

"We don't know."

"Do we know anything at all?" Harri asked fearfully.

"Just that if there is a creature, it is probably one controlled by a parsletounge. There a few options, but we haven't yet figured out how they could be in the school. Someone would notice a large snake slithering around."

"But there was a snake!" Harri explained feeling vindicated. "Do you remember the voice I heard at the start of term? The Runespoor called it the Mother!"

Snape looked contemplative. "Even if the snake were to just move around at night, someone would have noticed. And where would it go during the day?"

"The Chamber of Secrets, obviously."

"We have checked every conceivable spot for the Chamber," said Snape with annoyance. "There isn't one. Between Minerva, Flitwick, Dumbledore, and me looking, one of us would have found something in this infernal castle."

"None of you are speakers," Harri said. "You aren't meant to find it."

Snape fixed her with a stern look, "You aren't to go looking, Harriet. I know that face. If you hear that snake or think you've found the chamber you will _find me_. We won't have a repeat of last year."

"I did alright last year!" Harri protested.

"You nearly died, Harriet," Snape stated. "Your safety means a great deal to a great many people. Don't throw away your life."

"But… but it's my fault that Hermione is nearly dead," Harri said, blinking away tears. "I didn't listen to her so she decided to go looking for clues on her own. If I had bothered to listen to her maybe she would have gone to the game instead of staying at the castle."

"That is a very foolish way to look at it," Snape told her. "You cannot blame yourself for the actions of others."

"I'm not… blaming myself. I'm being honest with myself. I wasn't being a good friend. I got caught up in what happened on Samhain and I didn't pay attention to Hermione."

"You never mentioned that something happened on Samhain," Snape said coolly. "I've tried to give you several opportunities. Yet you remain silent on the matter. If something were the matter, you should have said so."

"What opportunity? You've been basically mute the last few brewing sessions!"

"Yes, I was giving you an opportunity to speak up." Harri wanted to pull her hair out.

"This isn't how you parent! You aren't supposed to just wait around for me to start talking about things. You're supposed to ask me what happened and ask me about my feelings and not just expect me to come out with it!"

"Is this about to turn into another teenaged mood swing?"

"AHHG!" She stood up and wanted to walk out of the room.

"Harriet," Snape said before she could. She turned around to see a more natural smile on his face like she had amused him.

"You are correct. I am the adult and it was I who should have taken initiative. Please forgive my lapse in judgment."

Feeling slightly, only slightly, mollified, Harri sat back down. "What do you already know?" Harri asked him.

"I've known since you showed me your soulmark that you are our future Lady of Light," Snape informed her. "You once asked me why I rushed off to tell Dumbledore right away. That was why. Dumbledore can offer you far more guidance than I ever could."

"So you've known all along and didn't tell me?"

"It wasn't for me to tell, Harriet. Some things are magically sacred."

"I hate it," Harri confessed. "I don't want to be a Lady of Light. I don't want to be singled out like this. I don't think I'm more powerful than anyone else."

"You really aren't," Snape told her bluntly. "It isn't a matter of power. It is more… magnetism. Magical magnetism. What do you know about a compass?"

"It points north because of magnets," Harri said, following his train of thought.

"The purpose of a Lord or Lady of magic is to pull at the innate magic in witches and wizards around them. It allows for balance. Magic can go haywire without balance and anchor points. Just like a potion, we must always be sure that our base is brewed properly first before we add components. Add too many acids or bases, or components that don't react well together, and the potion will go wrong."

"So you think the purpose isn't power at all? Then why is Dumbledore so powerful? Why is Voldemort?"

"They have studied and trained very hard to be powerful. Like any muscle. The more stress you put on it, the stronger it becomes."

"My core. It's strangely expanded because of duress. That's how you described it from the beginning. My core had a strain on it!"

"Yes, and you've learned to control your strength quite well. If you were to never try particularly hard over the next twenty or so years, you would be no more powerful than an average witch or wizard. Your advantage of strength would disappear. But if you were to train now, and not stop for twenty years, you would be as powerful as I."

"Because you've done that," Harri stated. "You've been training nonstop for twenty years."

"It has been to my benefit to be powerful. It has allowed me to toe the line between dark and light. It has given me opportunities that no other thirty-year-old wizard has had."

"I'll never catch up then. If Voldemort returns he's what, seventy years old? When Dumbledore dies I won't be any kind of match for him."

"Don't be so sure, Harriet. The purpose of the Lady of Light isn't to defeat the Dark Lord in battle. Nor is it to be submissive to him. It is to bring balance between light and dark magic. Magic would not have chosen you if the balance could not be achieved through you."

"That is a highly subjective statement. We don't know why magic does anything!"

"I know this to my bones, Harriet Potter. You were chosen to bring balance and temper the dark. You are no lamb to slaughter. I'll be damned before I let you be."

"Are you saying… that you're going to help me?"

"Yes. We are all going to help you. So don't go chasing snakes, Harriet. Work with me, and the other professors at Hogwarts. You're young now, but you won't be forever. Live to fight another day, become strong, so when the day comes you'll be a match for Lord Voldemort."

* * *

"Harri Potter we are not going to sit in this common room and mope all evening," Lavender Brown told Harri.

"We aren't?" Harri asked from her place by the fire. Ron and Neville were not in the common room. Harri had spent the last fifteen minutes looking speculatively into the fire. Where were they? She had been avoiding them all week, but were they now avoiding her?

"I know you're sad about Hermione," Lavender said, "and I'm very upset too. So we should be sad together somewhere else."

"We should?" Harri felt like a broken record.

"Yes," said Parvati, coming down the stairs with a bag slung over the shoulder. "I've got our stuff, Lav. Let's go."

"GO?" Harri asked, feeling alarmed as Lavender grabbed her by the arm with surprising strength and began to pull her toward the portrait hole. "Where are we going?"

"It's a surprise," Lavender said with a mischief-filled smile that made her look more like the Weasley twins then she had a right to.

The two girls pulled Harri out of the common room and practically frog-marched her through the castle. It was still several hours till curfew, but Harri got the feeling that she wouldn't be coming back to Gryffindor tower that night.

The went down two flights of stairs to the fifth floor and then began to work their way to the east wing of the castle.

"This way," said Parvati, pulling them toward a spiral staircase.

They climbed in tight, dizzying circles; Harri had never been up here before. At last, they reached a door. There was no handle and no keyhole: nothing but a plain expanse of aged wood, and a bronze knocker in the shape of an eagle.

Parvati reached out a hand and knocked once. Harri expected someone to answer the door, but instead, the beak of the eagle opened, and a soft musical voice said, "What asks, but never answers?"

"Any idea, girls?" Parvati asked.

"Wait… is this the Ravenclaw common room?" Harri asked.

"Yes," said Lavender cheerfully. "I do love a good riddle. Hmm…"

"And they don't have a password?" Harri asked Parvati.

"It couldn't just a riddle itself? Or the knocker," Lavender murmured to herself with a laugh. "I bet you don't give a lot of answers, do you?" Lavender said to the bird.

"No, they have to answer riddles. Isn't it dreadful? I always feel so bad for Padme. Can you imagine? What if you had forgotten something and needed to hurry?" Parvati said to Harri.

"A QUESTION!" Lavender exclaimed happily.

"Yes, exactly," said the bird.

The Ravenclaw common room was a wide circular room, airier than any Harri had seen at Hogwarts. Graceful arched windows punctuated the walls, which were hung with blue-and-bronze silks: By day, the Ravenclaws would have a spectacular view of the surrounding mountains. The ceiling was domed and painted with stars, which were echoed in the midnight-blue carpet. There were tables, chairs, and bookcases, and in a niche opposite the door stood a tall statue of white marble.

The statue stood beside a door that led, she guessed, to dormitories above. She walked carefully into the domed room. It was very pretty here. It had a real feminine touch that Gryffidnor Tower lacked.

"Oh good, you're here," said Padme Patil from one of the desks. She was sitting with Mandy Brocklehurst and Lisa Turnip.

"They knew we were coming?" Harri asked, turning to Lavender and Parvati.

"Of course we knew," said Lisa cheerfully. "Lavender suggested that we have an inter-house sleepover and I thought it was a lovely idea."

"A… sleepover?" She was a broken record. Harri had never had a sleepover before. She had slept in Ginny's room but never done anything remotely girly. Hermione would never do anything like this, Harri thought.

"Well, you've just seemed so sad Harri," Parvati explained.

"We've all noticed. Hermione being attacked must be really hard for you," interjected Mandy.

"So we thought it might be nice to spend a night here with us. You stare at Hermione's bed every night for hours," Lavender added.

"That's… so nice of you," Harri said, looking at the five girls who she didn't know all that well. "Why are you being so nice?"

Padme laughed softly. "That's what we owe each other, Harri. Have you ever heard of Professor T. M. Scanlon?"

"No," Harri said, thinking that Hermione probably would have heard of him.

"He's an American muggle philosopher. He has a theory of morality called Contractualism. Have you heard of that?"

"No, and I have a very limited understanding of philosophy. I'm sure that Hermione would like… or she will like to hear about it. In a few months."

"Well… yes… I suppose you wouldn't really want to listen to a treatise on philosophy?"

"Please, no!" exclaimed Parvati. "Save it for Hermione in a few months. We'll have all of you over to celebrate!"

"Yes, I think that's best," added Lisa. "I don't think I could listen to another talk tonight Padme."

"The matter at hand," said Mandy, "Is cheering up Harri. We should start that process with chocolate."

"Here Here!" cheered Lavender loudly.

"Shhh," said a fifth year Ravenclaw boy at the desk next to Padme, Lisa, and Mandy.

"Upstairs then," said Padme with a smile. The three Ravenclaw girls gathered up their books and led Harri, Lavender, and Parvati up the stairs to their dormitory.

It turned out that sleepovers involved painting nails, gossiping, face masks, more gossip, and a good deal of discussion about soulmarks. They lit candles that smelled like flowers. They ate chocolate bars, drank hot chocolate, and devoured chocolate biscuits. They experimented with makeup and hairstyles. Harri learned that purple shades of eyeshadow would bring out the green in her hazel eyes, that applying lotion to her neck would prevent a makeup line, and that lining her bottom lid with white eyeliner would make her eyes seem larger.

Harri hadn't laughed all week, but she couldn't stop all night. As they left the Ravenclaw common room the next morning, Harri shyly hugged her three new friends.

"Thank you," she said. "You didn't have to spend last night with me. It was nice to sleep somewhere else… and to laugh."

"It was our pleasure," said Lisa. "We should do it again. Not next weekend, because we have that monster essay for potions that will take forever."

"Do you need help with that?" Harri asked. "I already finished."

"Did you really?" Padme asked, looking interested. "I'd forgotten that you're top in our year for potions."

"You'd never think with Hermione running around," Harri said with a laugh. "Snape would turn me out if I wasn't though. Plus, most Friday's he has me brewing as punishment for last year."

"We should meet in the library then," said Lisa. "It's due next Monday so I'd like to get my preliminary research out of the way first. Friday then?"

* * *

Things turned around after that. Harri spent the next month with Lisa, Mandy, Padme, Lavender, and Parvati. They didn't flinch when she brought up Hermione, which was often. They let Harri talk about her feelings, which was new, but more than that they ASKED Harri about her feelings. That had never been a part of her life before.

It wasn't perfect. Like any sisters, Padme and Parvati argued often. Lisa and Mandy had a long-standing feud over Transfiguration theories that would stop them from speaking every other day. And Lavender would get annoyed if Harri got too mopey. All said it was a close-knit group of girls that began to develop.

Harri tried to catch Neville and Ron in a conversation too, but they seemed to be avoiding her. It was frustrating, and she felt like they blamed her Hermione's attack.

In the second week of December, Professor McGonagall came around, as usual, collecting names of those who would be staying at school for Christmas. Snape had told Harri that she would be staying and helping in finalizing their initial findings on the Runespoor tests. Two weeks of uninterrupted brewing time was a godsend to Snape.

All five of Harri's friends would be going home for the holidays, as would Ron and Neville. Strangely, Draco Malfoy was planning to stay. Harri found this very odd since he was always talking about his family Yule traditions.

It was that thought that turned Harri's mind to Yule. Dumbledore had said that he would be taking Harri to each of the four rituals this year. Yule was next, followed by Beltane, and then Litha. Harri had looked up what she could about Yule, Beltane, and the Summer Solstice, Litha as she had found out. Yule would start on the 21st, exactly two weeks from now, and would conclude on January 2, the day before everyone arrived back from Christmas Break.

From what her research said, Yule was more Germanic in origins and would probably involve some sort of hunt. Harri didn't think he would be spending twelve nights in the wilds of Germany with Professor Dumbledore, but who knew what would happen. He hadn't let on about any of it. Though Harri was very certain that he had been at Hogwarts during Christmas the previous year. He hadn't been gone for twelve days straight.

Why was Malfoy staying? Harri couldn't puzzle it out. Her suspicions were stoked that something odd was happening when she found Malfoy speaking quietly to Ron and Neville in the library on Thursday before double potions. They weren't fighting, they were speaking almost like they were friends. Harri had hidden behind a shelf trying to make out what they were saying, but she couldn't make anything out. The three parted ways and arrived at potions separately.

What in the world was going on?

The Monday before winter break, Harri, Lavender, and Parvati were walking across the entrance hall when they saw a small knot of people gathering around the notice board, reading a piece of parchment that had just been pinned up. Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas beckoned them over, looking excited.

"They're starting a Dueling Club!" said Seamus. "First meeting tonight! I wouldn't mind dueling lessons; they might come in handy one of these days…"

"What, you reckon Slytherin's monster can duel?" asked Lavender, but she too, read the sign with interest.

"Do you want to go?" Parvati asked Lavender as they walked into dinner. Harri was all for it, but her roommates deferred.

"I've got miles of homework to get done," Parvati explained.

"And I just don't want to," said Lavender bluntly. "We're second years and the whole school will be there. We won't be able to keep up."

Harri walked down with Seamus and Dean, who she had caught on their way. "I wonder who'll be teaching us?" Harri asked as they edged into the chattering crowd. "Flitwick was a dueling champion when he was young- maybe it'll be him."

"As long as it's not that dolt- oh no…" Seamus began but ended on a groan. Gilderoy Lockhart was walking onto the stage, resplendent in robes of deep plum and accompanied by none other than Snape, wearing his usual black.

"That bat," Harri hissed. "He didn't tell me."

Lockhart waved an arm for silence and called, "Gather round, gather round! Can everyone see me? Can you all hear me? Excellent!"

"Now Professor Dumbledore has granted me permission to start this little dueling club, to train you all in case you ever need to defend yourselves as I myself have done on countless occasions- for full details, see my published works."

Dean began to cough, hiding his laughter. Lockhart's book had become a joke in the Gryffindor common room.

"Let me introduce my assistant, Professor Snape," said Lockhart, flashing a wide sile. "He tells me he knows a tiny little bit about dueling himself and has sportingly agreed to help me with a short demonstration before we begin. Now I don't want any of you youngsters, to worry- you'll still have your Potions master when I'm through with him, never fear."

Now it was Harri's turn to cough to hide laughter. Snape was an excellent dueler. He met Harri's eyes across the hall and gave her a sly smile that only made her cough harder.

Lockhart and Snape turned to face each other and bowed; at least Lockhart did, with much twirling on his hands, whereas Snape jerked his head irritably. Then they raised their wands like swords in front of them.

"As you see, we are holding our wands in the accepted combative position," Lockhart told the silent crowd. "On the count of three, we will cast our first spell. Neither of us will be aiming to kill, of course."

"That's not allowed in dueling anyways," Seamus hissed to Harri.

"One-two-three-"

Both of them swung their wands above their heads and pointed them at their opponent; Snape cried out " _Expelliarmus!_ " There was a dazzling flash of scarlet light and Lockhart was blasted off his feet: He flew backward off the stage, smashed into the wall, and slid down to sprawl on the floor.

Malfoy and some of the Slytherins cheered.

Lockhart was getting unsteadily to his feet. His hat had fallen off and his wavy hair was standing on end.

"Well, there you have it!" he said tottering back onto the platform. "That was a Disarming Charm- as you can see, I've lot my wand- ah thank you, Miss. Patil." Padme had handed Lockhart back his wand. Much like Hermione, she had an unseemly crush on the bafoonish man.

"An excellent idea to show them that, Professor Snape, but if you don't mind my saying so, it was very obvious what you were about to do. If I had wanted to stop you it would have been only too easy- however, I felt it would be instructive to let them see…"

Harri snorted.

Snape looked annoyed. Possibly Lockhart had noticed, because he said, "Enough demonstrating! I'm going to come amongst you now and put you all into pairs. Professor Snape, if you'd like to help me-"

They moved through the crowd, matching up partners. Lockhart teamed Neville up with Justin Finch-Fleetchly, and Snape reached Harri first.

"Time to split up you two," he said to Dean and Seamus. "Harriet, you can take Finnigan. Thomas, over here with Miss. Bulstrode."

He then paired Ron with Malfoy, who strutted over, smirking.

"Face your partners!" called Lockhart, back on the platform. "And bow!"

Harri and Seamus bowed dramatically, using all the same hand flourishes that Lockhart had used.

"Wands at the ready!" shouted Lockhart. "When I count to three, cast your charms to Disarm your opponents- only to disarm them- we don't want any accidents- one.. two... Three-"

Harri swung her wand high, and she and Seamus took turns trading silly charms like _Tarantallegra_ which caused one to tap dance.

Others weren't so lucky, with Ron and Malfoy trading rather painful _Rictasempras_.

"Stop! Stop!" screamed Lockhart, but Snape took charge.

" _Finite Incantatem_!" he shouted; Harri's feet stopped dancing and Seamus stopped laughing from her tickling charm.

A haze of greenish smoke was hovering over the scene. Both Neville and Justin were lying on the floor panting; Ron was doubled over, and Millicent Bulstrode had Dean in a headlock.

"Dear, dear," said Lockhart, skittering through the crowd, looking at the aftermath of the duels. "Up you go, Macmillian… Careful there Miss. Fawcett… Pinch it hard, it'll stop bleeding in a second Boot-."

"I think I'd better teach you how to block unfriendly spells," said Lockhart, standing flustered in the midst of the hall. He glanced at Snape, whose black eyes glinted, and looking quickly away. "Let's have a volunteer pair- Longbottom and Finch-Fletchley, how about you-"

"A bad idea, Professor Lockhart," said Snape, gliding over like a large bat. "Longbottom causes devastation with the simplest of spells. I think a fair pairing would be…" he glanced around. "Harriet, you and Draco I think."

Harri felt annoyed, but Snape was probably right. She and Malfoy both had high grades and would probably be able to get the shield charm right on the first couple tries.

She didn't like the look on Malfoy's face. She saw him make eye contact with Ron, who gave a slight nod.

"Excellent idea!" said Lockhart, gesturing Harri and Malfoy into the middle of the hall as the crowd backed away to give them room.

"Now, Harri," said Lockhart. "When Draco points his wand at you, do this."

He raised his own wand, attempted a complicated sort of wiggling action, and dropped it. Snape smirked as Lockhart quickly picked it up saying, "Whoops- my wand is a little overexcited-"

"A simple _protego_ should do, Harriet," Snape said calmly. "Draco, just perform the disarming spell, if you will."

Harri and Malfoy faced each other. Lockhart counted down, "Three- two- one- go!" he shouted.

Malfoy raised his wand quickly and bellowed, " _Serpensortia!"_

The end of his wand exploded. Harri watched, aghast as a long black snake shot out of it, fell heavily onto the floor between them, and raised itself, ready to strike. There were screams as the crowd backed swiftly away, clearing the floor.

" _Come no nearer!"_ it hissed in anger.

Harri blinked, surprised. " _Hello,_ " she hissed. " _I'm sorry, this must be very jarring for you."_

The serpent looked marginally calmer. " _A speaker?_ " it hissed at Harri.

" _Yes, and if you'll just come over here onto me, I can take you to get some very nice rats,"_ Harri told the snake, offering out her arm.

The snake hesitated, but then consented and slithered over to Harri and coiled up her arm onto her shoulder.

There were gasps of shock. Harri looked up and met Snape's eyes. She realized her mistake. She had spoken to a snake in front of the whole school. Snape was already pinching the bridge of his nose, something he only did when he was very annoyed with her.

Harri slowly turned her head to look at the assembled crowd and saw open faced shock. Everyone was looking at her. Everyone except Ron and Neville. They were looking towards Malfoy, and as Harri turned back to face her opponent, she saw that Malfoy had a look of pure triumph on his face.


	30. Memoriae: Yule

"What in the hell do you think you were playing at?" Harri accused angrily. She had cornered Ron and Neville in their dorm room. They had practically run back to the Gryffindor common room after Dueling Club. All it had taken to keep Dean and Seamus out was a venomous glare from Harri. The black snake still draped around Harri's shoulders enhanced the effect.

"What were we playing at? What are you playing at!" Ron yelped back. "You're a bloody parselmouth!"

"So what!" Harri yelled back.

"So what? Harri, don't you think it's odd that you can suddenly talk to snakes?" Neville asked, clearly pleading with her to stay calm. His face was white, and Harri suddenly realized that the room was crackling with energy.

Harri took a deep breath and tried to calm down. She felt incredibly betrayed. They had known that Draco Malfoy was going to do something like this. She had seen the nod. Why would they try to expose her secret? Now everyone would think that she was the Heir of Slytherin. They were her friends. How could they do this to her?

Only… they must have exposed her because _they_ thought she was the heir of Slytherin.

"I've been able to talk to snakes for a long time," Harri told them. "When I was ten I sent a Boa Constrictor at a zoo to Brazil. I'm helping Snape brew experimental potions with a Runespoor every Friday. Both Snape and Dumbledore know about my ability."

"You sent a boa constrictor to Brazil?" Ron repeated faintly.

"There's a Runepoor in the castle?" Neville asked, face still very pale.

"Yes, but he won't do anything. He's very nice!"

"Oh yeah, and what about that snake around your neck?" Ron asked. Said snake was eyeing Scabbers who was asleep on Ron's bed.

 _"Is that the rat you meant?"_ the snake asked with disgust.

" _No, it's not. That rat belongs to someone else."_

" _Good,"_ the snake hissed, " _that rat isn't right."_

"She says that she doesn't want Scabbers. He might be sick," Harri told Ron.

Ron scooped the rat up protectively. "He is not!" he exclaimed while looking the rat over.

"Why would you let Malfoy do that?" Harri asked furiously. "It was rotten of you. If you had asked I would have told you that I'm a parselmouth."

"Well, we didn't know that!" Neville said. "He said that you wouldn't answer truthfully."

"How did Malfoy even know, anyway?" Harri continued on. "It's not like I advertise it."

There was a pause, where Ron and Neville looked at each other silently. "Malfoy thinks that you're possessed," Ron said finally.

"Possessed? No, I'm not."

"Would you know if you were?" Neville asked.

"I would know if I'm possessed!" Harri exclaimed. "Isn't there a spell or something? I'll prove it."

Neville shrugged. "I don't know about a spell. He said that you picked up a book at Diagon Alley that Malfoy's dad gave Hermione. That it was meant to open the Chamber of Secrets."

Harri froze. It was like she could almost remember something, but it wasn't coming to mind. She couldn't focus on it. There was a fog covering her vision, and she had to lean on Ron's bed to prevent herself from falling.

Both boys reached out as if to catch her, but Harri waved them off, gaining control of herself again.

"I think… I think there is something," she said haltingly. "I don't know what. I can't… it won't focus in my head. But it's been like that since the start of term. Ever since I…"

The boys seemed to realize at the same time that she did. "You were in the hospital wing for magical depletion," Ron said.

"But you haven't been there since," added Neville.

"If there was a book that possessed me," Harri said, "I don't think I have it anymore. You can check my things… Hermione!"

Ron jumped, "Hermione what?"

"Hermione was going through all my things. She broke into Snape's rooms before she got petrified. She was looking for the book?"

"Yeah, she was. Malfoy put her up to it."

"Malfoy?" Harri asked, shocked. "Why would Malfoy be trying to find the book? How do we know he didn't set Hermione up?"

"He seems pretty beat up about it," Neville said. "He… he really wants to stop whatever did this to Hermione I think. He visits her almost every day."

"Does he really?" Harri asked, feeling guilty that she hadn't visited Hermione more often.

"Yeah, he does," said Ron. "He said that a way to test if you had the book since we can't exactly go up to the girl's dorms, was to see if you were a parselmouth."

"It would make sense if Slytherin's monster was a snake," added Neville.

"That's what Snape and Dumbledore think too," Harri told them. "I've heard the snake I think. Threatening to kill people," Harri shivered.

"You know what the teachers are thinking about all this?" Neville asked.

"Well… sort of. I think Snape let me know some things about it so that I wouldn't go looking for trouble. Apparently, Hagrid got framed for opening the Chamber fifty years ago, but Dumbledore thinks it wasn't him. Apparently, Voldemort was a student when the attacks happened last time."

" _He_ was a student here?" Ron asked horrified.

"Yeah, I can't picture it either," Harri said. "The teachers think that Voldemort is doing it again somehow."

"What if… What if You-Know-Who gave the book to Malfoy's dad?" Neville asked. "What if it's a book that takes control of people and makes them open the Chamber of Secrets?"

"How could a book do that? It would have a huge magical signature! We'd all feel it, and if we couldn't Dumbledore would feel it at the very least." Harri said.

"I don't know," said Ron thinking. "I think we need to talk to Malfoy more about this. We should all meet, and then, and I can't believe I'm saying this Harri, then I think we need to tell the teachers what we know."

"Ron that sounds a lot like Hermione."

"Don't tell her when she wakes up, I'll never live it down."

* * *

They met the next day in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. No one liked being around Myrtle, which meant that it was one of the most private places in Hogwarts. The snow that had begun in the night had turned into a blizzard so thick that the last Herbology lesson of the term was canceled: Professor Sprout wanted to fit socks and scarves on the Mandrakes, a tricky operation she would entrust to no one else, now that it was so important for the Mandrakes to grow quickly to revive Mrs. Norris and Hermione.

"So you're telling me that you think you _were_ possessed by the book, but you don't have it anymore," said Malfoy, arms crossed and looking at Harri in disbelief.

"That's right," Harri told Malfoy.

"And you're a parselmouth despite the fact, and could talk to snakes before my father gave Granger that book in August."

"You've got it," Harri said.

"Which is a fact that can be confirmed by Professor Snape," Malfoy continued on, eyeing Harri with suspicion.

"Yes. He's known about it since June."

"Which means we have no idea where the book is now or who it's using to get into the Chamber," said Neville.

Malfoy groaned. "Isn't that bloody fantastic," he hissed. "Some maniac is on the lose petrifying people. You know last time someone died."

"Well, it's only been two attacks so far. Just Hermione and the cat. Maybe there won't be anymore."

"Doubtful," said Malfoy. "They're probably just trying to pick their next victim. Do we know who is a Mud-" Harri, Neville, and Ron all glared at him, "Oh alright, Muggle-born. Do we know who is muggle-born?"

"I don't think they keep a list. We could start to make one, I guess?" Ron said with a shrug. "I think we need to tell the teachers though. If the teachers know that there is a book that is possessing people, they'll be able to search the castle for it."

Malfoy went even paler. "If we tell the teachers then my father will know that I told you about the book. He's on the Board of Governors."

"So what?" Harri asked. Malfoy glared at her.

"So what, Potter? Do you know what my family does to blood-traitors? I'd get disinherited."

"You're saying money is more important than people's lives!" Ron said angrily to him. "Who is to say that Hermione won't wake up and get attacked again?"

Malfoy didn't look happy. "I don't want to go to the teachers or Dumbledore. But...we can tell Snape."

Ron and Neville weren't happy about that, but Harri thought it was fair. "I guess that's as close to neutral territory as we're going to get," Harri agreed.

"Snape is NOT neutral!' Ron snapped.

"He'd probably help feed us to the monster," agreed Neville.

"No he wouldn't," Harri told them. "He wants the attacks to stop too, come on." And Harri led three reluctant boys to Professor Snape's office.

Snape didn't take his eyes of Malfoy for the entire meeting but agreed to keep Malfoy's name officially out of it.

"I will have to let the Headmaster know, Draco," Snape told him as they stood to leave. "But we will keep your name out of anything official. To search student's belongings we need to have permission from the Board of Governors."

Draco visibly gulped. "My father won't approve something that could lead back to him. Is there a way for you to word it so it isn't obvious that I told you? To make it sound like you're looking for something else?" he asked.

"We will find a way. Thank you for coming forward. It was very brave of you. I know how these things are," Snape laid a hand on Malfoy's shoulder. He looked very solemn.

"My father won't be pleased, if he finds out," Draco said, looking down.

"There isn't a way for us to prove anything without your direct cooperation," Snape told Malfoy. "Unless you're willing to give memories and testify publically, there isn't much we can do legally."

Malfoy shook his head, still looking down. "I'm not going to testify against my father," he said weakly.

"Of course, Draco. Out with you four. I'll be heading to the Headmaster's office."

Snape pushed them out the door of his office, locked it, and strode off- his cloak flowing behind him like great bat wings- in the direction of Dumbledore's office.

"You sneak," Ron hissed at Malfoy once Snape was out of earshot. "What do you mean you won't testify against your father! He's the one who started this mess."

"He's my father, Weasley. I figured you would at least understand," Malfoy spat. "Would you go around testifying against your family?"

Ron was white with anger. "If my family were a bunch of Death Eaters I would!"

"Ron, Malfoy, shut it!" Neville said, going between them. Both boys were physically stronger than chubby Neville and could push him aside if it came to blows.

"We don't have proof without Malfoy," Ron said tersely. "If he won't testify then his dad just gets away with hurting Hermione? That isn't right."

"Well, we can't do anything about that. Fighting won't change his mind, Ron," Harri said. She understood Ron's frustration perfectly.

"Don't you dare tell anyone about this," Malfoy said. "It's not right. We all know it's not right what my father did to Granger. We're stopping it. I'm doing my part. So shut your faces. Or next time you get in some sticky trouble, I won't help you at all."

"Draco, are you saying that you're planning to help us next time?" Harri asked with an overly sweet voice.

"Shut it, Scarhead," snapped Malfoy, and he stomped off.

* * *

Harri decided to get some school work done in the library after Draco had marched away. She had her school bag with her, but Ron and Neville had to return to the common room to get theirs.

Harri wasn't sure how she felt about Ron and Neville right now. They had ignored her for nearly a month, which had hurt horribly. Not to mention her free time had evaporated and studying had increased exponentially. Between no Hermione, Ron, or Neville, Harri was finding it much harder to master magic. Ron was much more intuitive in magic than she, and was good at helping Harri practically with spells. She always overloaded her spell casting or had nothing happen at all. Neville was a Herbology wiz and could make out differences in plants that Harri would never notice. Harri was good at magical theory, but Hermione was miles better. The only area Harri could claim to be the best at was Potions, and she had the advantage of private lessons with Snape every Friday. She felt subpar. With the help of her new friends Harri had managed to keep her grades up, but it was more of a struggle.

A group of Hufflepuffs who should have been in the canceled Herbology class with the Gryffindors were sitting at the back of the library, but they didn't seem to be working. Between the long lines of high bookshelves, Harri could see that their heads were close together and they were having what looked like an absorbing conversation. She was walking toward them when something of what they were saying met her ears, and she paused to listen, hidden in the Invisibility section.

"So anyway," a stout boy was saying, "I told Justin to hide up in our dormitory. I mean to say, if Potter's going to make him her next victim, it's best if he keeps a low profile for a while. Of course, Justin's been waiting for something like this to happen ever since he let slip to Potter he was Muggle-born. Justin actually told her he'd been down for Eton. That's not the kind of thing you bandy about with Slytherin's heir on the loose, is it?"

"You definitely think it _is_ Potter, then, Ernie?" asked Neville's soulmate, Hannah Abbot.

"Hannah," said the stout boy solemnly, "she's a Parselmouth. Everyone knows that's the mark of a Dark Witch. Have you ever heard of a decent one who could talk to snakes? They called Slytherin himself Serpent-tongue."

Harri felt her stomach sink all the way to the floor. She almost wanted to start crying. Everyone thought that she was the heir of Slytherin now. Everyone was probably whispering about her. Any that she had garnered for herself over the last two years would be gone. She would just be hated Harri Potter again.

"Well I was talking to Padme Patil earlier today," said Hannah. "She's been hanging out with Harri some. She says that Harri's horribly upset about Hermione Granger. Why would she attack her best friend?"

"Well doesn't that prove it!" said Ernie. "If Potter went and attacked her, she'd have a reason to feel guilty. Maybe that's why there hasn't been another attack yet. But we all know about her now. So there isn't any reason to hide it."

There were some heavy murmurings at this, and Ernie went on, "Remember what was written on that wall? _Enemies of the Heir, Beware._ Potter had some sort of run-in with Filch. Next thing we know, Filch's cat's attacked."

"She's really nice though," argued Hannah. "She's good friends with Neville too," Hannah said this as if Neville's good approval was all that anyone should need. "And, well, she's the one who made You-Know-Who disappear. She can't be all bad, can she?"

Ernie lowered his voice mysteriously, the Hufflepuffs bent closer, and Harri edged nearer so that she could catch Ernie's words.

"No one knows how she survived that attack by You-Know-Who. I mean to say, she was only a baby when it happened. She should have been blasted to smithereens. Only a really powerful Dark Witch could have survived a curse like that." He dropped his voice until it was barely more than a whisper, and said, " _That's_ probably why You-Know-Who wanted to kill her in the first place. Didn't want a new Dark Lord _competing_ with him. I wonder what other powers Potter's been hiding?"

Harri couldn't take it anymore. Clearing her throat loudly, she stepped out from behind the bookshelves. If she hadn't been feeling so angry, she would have found the sight that greeter her funny: Everyone one of the Hufflepuffs looked as though they had been Petrified by the sight of her, and the color was draining out of Ernie's face.

"Hello," said Harri. "If you see Justin, please tell him that I don't have any reason to petrify him. He's annoying, but not worth a full-on attack. He can come out of his dorm." She tried to sound sarcastic but judging from the looks of horror on the Hufflepuff's face, she was pretty sure they thought she was serious. Even Hannah looked dubious.

"You stay away from him," Ernie told her firmly.

"I just said-"

"We all saw what you could do at Dueling Club!"

"Then you noticed that I stopped the snake from hurting anyone!"

"All I saw was you talking to a snake! Who knows what you were telling it." The Hufflepuffs around the table began to nod.

"It didn't touch anyone!"

"Well it could have!" said Ernie. "And in case you're getting ideas," he added, "I might tell you that you can trace my family back through nine generations of witches and warlocks and my blood's as pure as anyone's so-"

"I don't care what sort of blood you've got!" said Harri fiercely. "Why would I want to attack Muggleborns?"

"I've heard you hate those Muggles you used to live with. Why else would you want to live with Snape?"

Harri went pale. The Dursleys. How many people knew about them? What were people saying? Did people know about her childhood? That would be horrible. For everyone to think that she was evil and abused? They'd all say that abuse had made her that way. She could hear the harsh whispers, the unsympathetic comments, people rushing at her, sure that she was up to something, coming to hit…

Harri shook her head slightly to clear her mind.

"It's not possible to live with the Dursleys and not hate them," said Harri softly. "I'd like to see you try it."

She turned on her heel and stormed out of the library, earning herself a reproving glare from Madam Pince, who was polishing the gilded cover of a large spell book.

Harri blundered up the corridor, barely noticing where she was going, she was in such a fury. The result was that she walked into something very large and solid, which knocked her backward onto the floor.

"Oh, hello, Hagrid," Harri said, looking up.

Hagrid's face was entirely hidden by a wooly, snow-covered balaclava, but it couldn't possibly by anyone else, as he filled most of the corridor in his moleskin overcoat. A dead rooster was hanging from one of his massive, gloved hands.

"All righ', Harri?" he said, pulling up the balaclava so he could speak. "Why aren't yeh in class?"

"Canceled," said Harri, getting up. "What're you doing in here?"

Hagrid held up the limp rooster.

"The second one killed this term," he explained. "It's either foxes or a Blood-Suckin' Bugbear, an' I need the headmaster's permission tern put a charm on the hen coop."

Rooster. A dead rooster. The itch in the back of her head began. She was missing something. Something that she should know. Hagrid peered more closely at Harri from under his tick snow-flecked eyebrows.

"Yeh sure yeh're all righ'? Yeh look all hot an' bothered-"

Harri couldn't bring herself to repeat what Ernie and the rest of the Hufflepuffs had been saying about her.

"It's nothing," she said. "I'd better get going, Hagrid, it's Transfiguration next."

She walked off, her mind turning over everything she had learned that day and everything Ernie had said about her.

A book that possessed people. A book that she was pretty sure had possessed her.

A snake. There was a snake that was doing something…. Why hadn't she heard it again? Were the attacks going to stop? She was missing something so important. That heavy fog that she felt whenever she tried to remember returned.

Harri stamped up the stairs and turned along another corridor, which was particularly dark; the torches had been extinguished by a strong, icy draft that was blowing through a loose windowpane.

A snake… a snake and a rooster… BASILISK.

It was a basilisk that was causing the attacks! She could almost quote the section from Fantastic Beasts.

" _Basilisks are uncontrollable except by Parselmouths, they are as dangerous to most Dark Wizards as to anybody else. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing on the rooster, which is fatal to it._ "

Why had it taken her so long to remember this? It was so obvious. A basilisk stare could case death, but petrification was possible if looking through a reflective surface. Hermione had been looking at Harri's comb.

Harri was halfway down the passage when she tripped headlong over something lying on the floor.

She turned to squint at what she'd fallen over and felt as though her stomach had dissolved.

Justin Finch-Fletchley was lying on the floor, rigid and cold, a look of shock on his face, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. And that wasn't all. Next to him was another figure, the strangest sight Harri had ever seen.

It was Nearly Headless Nick, no longer pearly-white and transparent, but black and smoky, floating immobile and horizontal, six inches off the floor. His head was half off and his face wore an expression of shock identical to Justin's.

Harri got to her feet, her breathing fast and shallow, her heart doing a kind of drumroll against her ribs. Justin had seen the snake through Nearly-Headless-Nick. That was the reflective surface. Justin wasn't dead.

She had to get help… oh, but would anyone believe that she hadn't had anything to do with this?

As she stood there panicking, a door right next to her opened with a bang. Peeves the Poltergeist came shooting out.

"Why, it's potty wee Potter!" cackled Peeves, knocking Harri's glasses askew as he bounded past her. "What's Potter up to? Why's Potter lurking-"

Peeves stopped, halfway through a midair somersault. Upside down, he spotted Justin and Nearly Headless Nick. He flipped the right way up, filled his lungs and, before Harri could stop him, screamed, "ATTACK! ATTACK! ANOTHER ATTACK! NO MORTAL OR GHOST IS SAFE! RUN FOR YOUR LIVES ATTAAAACK!"

Crash- crash- crash- door after door flew open along the corridor and people flooded out. For several long minutes, there was a scene of such confusion that Justin was in danger of being squashed and people kept standing in Nearly Headless Nick. Harri found herself pinned against the wall as the teachers shouted for quiet. Professor McGonagall came running, followed by her own class. No sooner had the scene cleared somewhat than Ernie the Hufflepuff arrived, panting, on the scene.

 _"Caught in the act!"_ Ernie yelled, his face stark white, pointing his finger dramatically at Harri.

"That will do, Macmillan!" said Professor McGonagall sharply.

"Professor," said Harri to McGonagall. "I need to see Professor Dumbledore. Right away."

"Yes," said McGonagall curtly. "I suppose you do."

After Justin was carried to the hospital wing by Professor Flitwick and Professor Sinistra, and McGonagall conjured a fan that she gave to Ernie to waft Nick up the stairs, Harri and McGonagall turned down the hall.

They marched in silence around a corner and stopped before the ugly gargoyle.

"Lemon Drop," said Professor McGonagall.

She and Professor McGonagall stepped onto the stairs, and rose upward in circles, higher and higher. At last, they came to the door, and McGonagall knocked.

The office was empty, and Professor McGonagall told Harri to wait and left her there, alone.

Harri looked around. Standing on the usually empty gold perch behind the door was a decrepit-looking bird that resembled a half-plucked turkey. Harri looked at the gagging bird and it looked balefully back. It had scarlet plumage all around it on the floor, and even a few still sticking up on its head.

Was this…? But it couldn't be. It didn't look like one… but Harri knew that Phoenix's typically burst into flames when their bodies broke down. They would rise from the ashes as chicks.

"Hello," Harri said to the ugly bird as a couple more feathers fell out of its tail. "Not to be rude, but are you a Pheonix?"

As if in answer, the bird burst into flames.

Harri yelled in shock and backed away into the desk. Well, that answered that. She headed back over to the smoldering pile of ash to see the chick emerge. What an amazing, once in a lifetime, opportunity.

Sure enough, a tiny, wrinkled, newborn bird poked its head out of the ashes. It was very ugly.

The office door opened. Dumbledore came in, looking very somber.

"Professor," Harri gasped. "Your Pheonix!"

"About time," he said. "He's been looking dreadful for days; I've been telling him to get a move on."

Harri gave the bird a suspicious look. "He did it just when I asked him if he was a Pheonix."

Dumbledore laughed, "That sounds like Fawkes. He wanted to meet you once he was handsome again. He's very vain. Since he couldn't get that, I suppose he decided to shock you instead."

"He wanted to meet me?" Harri asked, looking back to the bird in curiosity.

"He is a creature of fire. The Lord of Light gives their body to the Earth and in return receives a companion of fire. The opposite is true for the Dark Lord. Since Pheonixes are very long-lived, they tend to help multiple generations."

"So one day…" Harri didn't finish her statement since it seemed insensitive.

"One day you and Fawkes will be very close," said Dumbledore with a small smile.

In the shock of Fawkes catching fire, Harri had forgotten what she was here to do, but it all came back to her as Dumbledore settled himself in the high chair behind the desk and fixed Harri with his penetrating, light blue stare.

Before Dumbledore could speak another word, however, the door of the office flew open with an almighty bang and Hagrid burst in, a wild look in his eyes, his balaclava perched on top of his shaggy black head and the dead rooster still swinging from his hand.

"It wasn't Harri, Professor Dumbledore!" said Hagrid urgently. "I was talkin' ter her seconds before that kid was found, she never had time, sir-"

Dumbledore tried to say something, but Hagrid went ranting on, waving the rooster around in his agitation, sending feathers everywhere.

"- it can't've bin her, I'll swear it in front o' the Ministry o' Magic if I have to-"

"Hagrid, I-"

"- yeh've got the wrong girl, sir, I know Harri never-"

" _Hagrid_!" said Dumbledore loudly. "I do _not_ think that Harri attacked those people."

"Oh," said Hagrid, the rooster falling limply at his side. "Right. I'll wait outside then, Headmaster."

As he stomped out looking embarrassed.

"Professor," Harri began, "It was actually Hagrid who helped me realize what has been going on. The rooster, sir. It's dead. A snake that can't stand the crow of a rooster could only be a Basilisk!"

Dumbledore leaned back slightly in his chair. "Yes," he said slowly. "I had thought that might be a possibility. It fits the profile very well," he stroked his beard thoughtfully. "I asked you up here because after Professor Snape informed me of what you and your friends have discovered, I wanted to know what exactly you have heard from this snake."

"Not much," Harri said. "Just the once I head that it wanted to kill. And the Runespoor called it the Mother of Serpents."

"Hmm," said Dumbledore, lost in thought.

"Sir," said Harri, "Professor Snape told me that you think it's Voldemort. And now with Malfoy telling us that his father gave Hermione and me a book… I've had this feeling… like a fog on my brain. It was almost like I couldn't break through and remember the word Basilisk."

"That doesn't surprise me Harri. If this book is what I think it is then there is a very good reason you were heavily affected by it."

"Are you going to search the school to find it?"

"The ability to search the belongings of our students is one that is not taken lightly. It requires approval from the Board of Governors. At the moment they are heavily influenced by their Chairman, Lucious Malfoy."

"So you're saying it won't be approved?"

"We shall see. They will vote over Winter break. Speaking of, we are less than a week from Yule now. Are you excited?"

"No," Harri said. "I've researched it, but I've read so many different traditions that I don't know which ones we will do. It's very overwhelming."

Dumbledore smiled. "Yule is a bit more fun than Samhain, in my opinion. Good food, good drink, and welcoming people. We'll be traveling to northern Norway. To the Alta Fjord. It's the location of some very interesting ancient runic carvings. Thankfully, we won't have to be out at night, just during the suns most powerful hours. We will be celebrating rebirth, much like our friend Fawkes here."

"So no evergreens and staying out from sunset to sunrise to mark the longest night of the year?" Harri asked, surprised.

"That would be the job of the Dark Lord," Dumbledore said with a smile. "Our longest day will be at the summer solstice, Litha."

"We celebrate solstices are during the day, so Beltane and Samhain are in the night?" Harri asked.

"No, just Samhain. The Dark Lord would join us in the daylight for Beltane. Properly celebrated it concludes at sunset, but the main focus of the ritual occurs at the sun's hight."

"Why?"

"Beltane is for the living, Samhain is for the dead," answered Dumbledore cryptically.

"It really is about balance?"

"Yes, rituals all focus on the balance between day and night, light and shadow."

"I wouldn't have thought," Harri said. "It seems like a ritual should take place at darkest night."

Dumbledore chuckled, "Yes one would think. Thankfully, we get more daylight tasks. My old bones wouldn't enjoy too many long nights."

* * *

Term finally came to a close, and in a blink of an eye, Harri was dragging herself out of bed at six in the morning to meet Professor Dumbledore. She wasn't sure what he meant about not having nighttime assignments. This was far too early for her without a broom ride to help wake her up.

Dumbledore, however, looked bright-eyed and festive in robes of resplendent green with fur trimming.

"Ah good, Harri!," he said with a wide smile as she slumped down the stairs. "A very Merry Yule to you my dear!"

"Mmm," she said blearily.

"Oh, dear. I think we need to get some tea in you," he said handing her a thermos.

They made their way into the early morning. The snow was very deep, and their tracks left a clear trail as they made there way down to the Hogwarts gate.

Harri was warm in her green robes and thick cloak. She had on her mittens and even a pair of earmuffs that she was quite fond of. She certainly did not look like a Snow Maiden to match Dumbledore's Father Christmas, but she thought she looked like a passable apprentice.

"When is sunrise?" Harri asked.

"There isn't one," said Dumbledore. "The sky should get slightly pink for an hour around eleven, but that will only last till just after noon."

"You mean there isn't even going to be a sunrise or sunset?" Harri asked shocked. She had heard that there were places where the sun didn't rise during the winter.

"No. You can see then why the Dark Lord might not enjoy this holiday, and I do very much," said Dumbledore cheekily. "But alas, even in the dark there is a magical responsibility from around 9:20 in the morning till 1:30 in the afternoon."

"Even without the sun?" Harri asked.

"My dear girl, that is what we go to celebrate. It is the rebirth of the sun! She leaves us during the winter months, but with this night she only grows in power once again. It is our duty to honor her shortest appearance."

They had reached the gates, and Dumbledore reached out his hand to take Harri's arm. "I think you will enjoy it," he told her. "Have no fear, it is all good fun in Alta."

They disapparated with a pop... and arrived at a party.

There was music being played, a bonfire lit, and what smelled like breakfast being served. A cheer went up from the crowd of witches and wizards when they saw Dumbledore.

They spoke rapidly in Norwegian, which Harri didn't understand, but Dumbledore spoke back with perfect ease. Add that to the long list of things Harri would need to learn, she thought with a groan. Was there a spell to learn a language? There should be.

"And who is this?" asked one cheerful blond witch in English, referring to Harri.

"This, my dear Inger, is Harriet Potter. Harriet, this is Inger Olsen. She is the Minister of Magic in Norway."

"Oh, goodness me!" said the woman with a gasp. "But why is she here? Oh, Albus, you don't mean to tell me-" She covered her mouth with her hand.

Dumbledore only smiled at her, neither confirming or denying. Harri felt her cheeks warm. It was still very dark, there wasn't any light other than from the fire, so no one could see.

"Well let's get some food in you!" said Inger brightly. She pulled Harri over to a table that was laden with smoked fish, several cuts of thin meat, bread, jam, and honey. It all looked very good. "Would you like any coffee?" the woman asked. Coffee? What was this, America?

"No thank you," Harri said holding up her thermos. "I've got tea."

"Oh, you British," she said teasingly. "Well, let me introduce you to my girls. They're about your age," she said referring to the two blond girls sitting at the table. "This is Ida, and this is Cathrine." The two girls waved shyly at Harri.

Their mother spoke to them in Norwegian, before turning back to Harri. "Would you mind terribly if I cast a translation spell? It will make things a bit simpler, I'm sure."

"That would be great," Harri said happily. There was a spell, fantastic! Perhaps she would be able to avoid learning Norwegian.

What followed was a party. Harri was happily eating plate after plate of good food. She even tried some coffee (it was horrid). Ida and Cathrine were very pleasant to speak to. They were schooled locally with three professors who taught them during the day and returned home every night.

"You spend most of the year apart from your family?" asked Ida. "Isn't that very difficult for family relationships?"

"For some people, I think," Harri told her. "But my father…" Harri tried again, "my father…" she meant to say guardian, but the spell didn't translate it correctly. "My father works at the school," she finished.

"Your father is a Master of an art?" Cathrine, who was almost of age, asked. "That is very impressive. Our Professors are journeymen in one or two subjects. Who is your father? Perhaps we have read his research?"

"Severus Snape," Harri said. Catherine nearly dropped her coffee.

"You cannot be serious!" the young woman exclaimed. "THE Severus Snape?"

"Yes," said Harri, a small smile tugging at her lips. "He's currently letting me assist him in a project," she bragged.

"That is amazing," said Cathrine.

"Who is Severus Snape?" asked Ida.

"He wrote the paper on the improvements that could be made to the Wolfsbane Potion," Cathrine told her sister. "The one that has helped Uncle Sven."

"Ohhh," Ida said. "Yes, that is very impressive. You are so lucky. You must learn a lot from him."

"Yes, I do. I enjoy brewing quite a lot, not to mention zoology. It's been a rare opportunity. Is your uncle is a werewolf?" Harri asked.

The girls looked at each other haltingly. "Yes," said Cathrine carefully. "But he is a very good man."

"I'm sure he is," Harri agreed. "I have an uncle with the same condition. I'll be seeing him a few days for Christmas, actually."

Both girls relaxed. "It is good to see family," said Ida, but neither wanted to talk anymore about werewolves.

Near noon, Inger brought out the Yule Log and presented it to Dumbledore.

"Lord of Light," Inger said as she held the Log out to him. "We ask your blessing on this log, that the fire that is lit from it may nourish our heaths through the long nights ahead. As we celebrate the sun's growing strength, let magic keep our houses warm."

"The fire of yesterday dies," Dumbledore said, taking the log. "But today a new fire starts. May the warmth of it keep your families safe. May it's light keep back the shadows. May this blessing bring rain to your fields, sun to your crops, and fish to your nets." Harri could feel the magic in the words, it was like a pleasant breeze through her hair from the coast. Salty and full of promise.

"And mead to our wives lips!" yelled one man, playfully pinching his wife on the rear. She swatted at him.

"And temperance to our husband's hands," said his wife.

"Here, Here!" said Dumbledore. Everyone raised their cups in a rowdy cheer. The music picked up and people began to dance.

Dumbledore made his way over to Harri. "I believe that is all for us," he told her.

"But we've barely been here at all," Harri said.

"Yes, and our time is done. Without the express invitation from the Dark Lord, it would be rude to overstay. Whether he was planning to come or not."

Harri glanced at Ida and Cathrine who didn't seem to understand Dumbledore's English. She wanted to protest but knew it would come out in Norwegian. She didn't want the girls to hear them arguing or speaking about Dark Lords. Maybe that was one benefit of learning Norwegian instead of using a translation spell.

"Perhaps I will see you next year?" Harri asked.

The girls agreed. "It was very nice to meet you, Harri Snape," said Cathrine. "Bring your father next year."

"I'll have to see," Harri said. Dumbledore led her a little away, before linking his arm with hers.

"Could Snape come next year? I think they appreciate his work here."

"Norwegians do have a reputation for being a studious bunch," said Dumbledore. "I'm sure Severus would enjoy pretty women asking him about his work,"

"Gross," said Harri. "Don't talk about him that way."

Dumbledore chuckled, and Harri felt the familiar pull of his magic as the apparated back to Scotland.


	31. Memoriae: Fire

Slight underage tag and sexual abuse trigger warning for this chapter

* * *

Christmas morning dawned cold and white. Harri sleepily wandered into Ron's dorm very early carrying her pile of presents so that they could open them together. Gulliver, her wandering tom, walked between her feet as she went.

"I'm going to drop everything you oversized monster," Harri hissed at the frisky cat.

"Harri- you're not supposed to be in here-" said Ron, rolling over and trying to go back to sleep.

"We need to go see Hermione before breakfast," Harri told him. "So come on, get a move on."

Harri's Christmas presents were very satisfactory. Hagrid sent her a large tin of treacle toffee, which Harri decided to soften by the fire before eating; Ron had given her a book called _Flying with the Cannons_ , a book of interesting facts about his favorite Quidditch team, and Neville had sent along a book called _Herbs and Brewing: What every Potion Master Should Grow_ which described the most useful herbs in pioneering and, most importantly to Harri, how to maintain them easily. Lavender had sent Harri a box of chocolate and Parvati a bottle of Sleekeazy's. Harri's last present was a new hand-knitted sweater from Mrs. Weasley and a large plum cake. Snape and Remus had both deferred giving her a present until later that day,

Harri had gotten Parvati an updated subscription to Witch Weekly and Lavender a deck of tarot cards. Harri had sent Ron and Neville the same gift; a gift certificate to Mr. Olivander's wand shop.

"Harri... " Ron said looking at the paper Mr. Ollivander had written out. "This is too much."

"No, it isn't," Harri insisted.

"Yes, it is. My mum isn't going to like this."

"Well, you should use it anyway. I've been thinking about last month when…" Ron had the decency to look ashamed. "Well, I didn't do so well without you. And it made me realize how much easier magic would be for you if you had a wand that was just yours. You're so intuitive anyways, and a new wand can only help."

Harri and Ron went by the Hospital Wing to see Hermione before heading down to the Great Hall. She was frozen in the same position she had been in for months now.

"Lord, she's going to hate waking up and realizing she missed the whole year," Ron said.

"I know," replied Harri. "Can you imagine how upset she'll be? Snape said that the potion won't be ready till May."

"She's going to go mad. You can tell her what month it is," Ron said.

"I wonder what the professors will do. Hermione can't get held back," Harri said feeling worried for her friend. Hermione would be devastated if she was held back behind her friends. She was smarter than everyone, and to be pushed behind because of Mr. Malfoy being spiteful would be very hard to handle.

"No, they won't do that," Ron insisted. "Maybe they'll do a placement test. Hermione was miles ahead of everyone else. She could probably pass the third year and jump right into fourth if they'd let her."

Harri wasn't so sure. Ron took a lot of knowledge for granted. While Hermione might be able to cast spells after some practice and research topics to death, it still wouldn't fill in the gaps that Ron and Neville took for granted.

The Great Hall looked magnificent when Harri and Ron entered. There were dozens of frost-covered Christmas trees and thick streamers of holly and mistletoe crisscrossing the ceiling. Enchanted snow was falling, warm and dry, from the ceiling. Dumbledore led them in a few of his favorite carols (Snape refused to join in).

Ron and Percy were dragged off by Fred and George after the meal to look for Ginny and to spend 'family time' together. Harri strongly suspected that Fred and George were going to torment their siblings with a snowball ambush.

Harri and Snape followed Dumbledore up to his office where they would floo to Remus' cabin. It was a new moon, no need to worry about Lupin's furry problem.

It was stilted at first. Snape and Remus didn't have much to say to each other. But several swigs of fire whiskey later had loosened both men up. They didn't talk about Sirius Black or Harri's father, but both were happy to tell stories about Lily Evans. Her mother sounded like a superhero the way that they described her.

Lupin gave her a large box of homemade fudge, "You can never have enough chocolate," he told her.

Snape didn't give her a gift. Instead, he presented Lupin with a piece of paper.

"As you may know," he began to Lupin, "I have a strong dislike for werewolves. Ever since _that_ man tried to kill me, I have done everything in my power to ensure that werewolves are not a threat."

Harri knew that Snape had done extensive research into werewolves and the wolfsbane potion, but the reason for that hadn't occurred to her.

"I imagine this will make you happy, Harriet," said Snape. " As you know, I brew wolfsbane regularly. It is tested on a volunteer group for research purposes to improve the formula. What I have offered Lupin is a place in the study." Harri's heart filled with joy. Wolfsbane was incredibly expensive. It took three grants to keep Snape's research funded. Lupin would never be able to afford it on his own, but now he wouldn't lose his mind every full moon. He would get to be himself instead of losing control to the dark magic inside of him. "Identities are confidential, of course," Snape told Lupin who was too shocked to speak.

* * *

Harri was visiting Hermione a few weeks into the new term. Everyone kept hissing at her or running away whenever she entered a room. It was now easier to do homework in the Hospital Wing sitting next to Hermione's bed. Harri talked to her friend about the lessons and what they were learning and wondered if Hermione was actually awake and listening, just unable to move.

Harri had just finished the homework Snape had given them, a huge amount that Ron claimed wouldn't be completed until sixth year, when she heard an angry outburst from the floor above.

"That's Filch," Harri said to Hermione, before dashing out of the hospital wing. She left her bag and books scattered around Hermione's bed.

She hurried up the stairs and paused, out of sight, listening hard. Had someone else been attacked?

"- even more work for me! Mopping all night, like I haven't got enough to do! No, this is the final straw, I'm going to Dumbledore-"

His footsteps receded along the out-of-sight corridor and she heard a distant door slam. Harri poked her head around the corner. Filch had clearly been manning his usual lookout post: she was once again at the spot where Mrs. Norris had been attacked. A great flood of water stretched over half the corridor, and it looked as though it was still seeping from under the door of Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Now that Filch had stopped shouting, Harri could hear Myrtle's wails echoing off the bathroom walls.

Harri, holding her robes over her ankles, stepped through the great wash of water to the door bearing its OUT OF ORDER sign, ignored it, and entered.

Moaning Myrtle was crying, if possible, louder and harder than Harri had ever seen before. She seemed to be hiding down her usual toilet. It was dark in the bathroom because the candles had been extinguished in the great rush of water that had left both walls and floor soaking wet.

"What's up, Myrtle?" asked Harri.

"Who's that?" glugged Myrtle miserably. "Come to throw something else at me?"

Harri waded across to her stall and said, "Why would I throw something at you?"

"Don't ask me," Myrtle shouted, emerging with a wave of yet more water, which splashed onto the already sopping floor. "Here I am, minding my own business, and someone thinks it's funny to throw a book at me…"

"But it can't hurt you if someone throws something at you," said Harri, reasonably. "I mean, it'd just go right through you, wouldn't it?"

She had said the wrong thing. Myrtle puffed herself up and shrieked, "Let's all throw books at Myrtle because _she_ can't feel it! Ten points if you can get it through her stomach! Fifty points if it goes through her head! Well, ha, ha, ha! What a lovely game, I _don't_ think!"

"Who threw it at you anyway?" asked Harri. Usually, no one came into this bathroom.

"I don't know… I was just sitting in the U-bend, thinking about death, and it fell right through the top of my head," said Myrtle glaring at her. "It's over there, it got washing out…"

Harri looked under the sink where Myrtle was pointing. A small, thin book lay there. It had a shabby black cover and was as wet as everything else in the bathroom. Something was stamped across the front in gold lettering.

Harri felt like the fog was rolled back from her mind.

This was it. This was the book. She remembered it now. The book that she had mingled her magic with for weeks at the Burrow. She had finally figured out how to write in it the night before term began… and it had been Voldemort. The magic that had felt so familiar had been Voldemort and she hadn't been able to do anything to stop it. He had taken her magic, caused her magical depletion, and made her hide the book in the first year girl's dorm.

A Gryffidnor First-Year had been possessed by the book and opened the Chamber of Secrets because Harri had given it to her.

What should she do?

She couldn't very well touch the diary. She could feel it reaching out toward her. If she touched it, would it have the ability to control her again?

Could she leave it here? What if someone else came by to investigate the water? What if the diary found a new victim and possessed them instead. What if the Gryffidnor First Year who had tried to flush the diary away came back for it?

She would levitate it. Harri would levitate it to Dumbledore and he could deal with Voldemort's enchanted Diary. That would solve it… maybe.

Making up her mind, Harri cast _Wingardium Leviosa_. She could feel the diary's magic try to mingle with hers, but she did her best to push it away. She just had to get the book to Dumbledore. She could make it up a flight of stairs and down a corridor.

This would work. This would be okay.

Harri's plan fell apart halfway down the second-floor corridor when she heard Filch shout out, "Hey! Potter, no magic in the corridors! What do you think you're doing, give me that!" Filch was right behind her and made a grab for the floating book.

With a seeker's reflex, Harri grabbed the diary before Filch could touch it. The magic rushed in like a battering ram.

Everything went black.

* * *

Harri woke up on her bed.

Her books and bag were neatly placed on her bedside table. How had they gotten here? Where was Filch? How was she in her bed?

Harri sat up. Laying at the foot of her bed was the diary, her fwooper feather quill laying innocuously next to it. It didn't think she was going to write to it, did it? She was most certainly not. She was going to find Lavender and Parvati in the common room and have them guard the door while she went to get help.

Only…

She felt frozen to the spot.

Harri had the impulse to raise her hand, she fought it and attempted to keep it firmly by her side. She fisted her comforter to stop herself from raising it, but almost like watching someone else's arm it rose up. Her entire arm was trembling as she tried to force it back down, but it wouldn't.

Instead, she watched as her hand reached for the quill. Her other arm, without her notice at first, also began to move. It was reaching toward the diary.

Harri tried to flinch back, to move, to do anything, but her body wasn't cooperating. Instead, she watched like a prisoner in her own mind as her hands opened the book and placed the quill on the first page.

' _Hello,_ ' she wrote in a hand that was not her own.

The pages of the diary began to blow as though caught in a high wind, stopping on the twenty-fourth day of June. Mouth hanging open, Harri saw that the little square for June twenty-fourth seemed to have turned into a miniscule television screen. Her hands trembling from her resistance, she raised the book to press her eye against the little window, and before she knew what was happening, she was tilting forward; the window was widening, she felt her body leave her bed, and she was pitched headfirst through the opening in the page into a whirl of color and shadow.

It was shadow that was prominent when she landed. It wasn't night, or at least it didn't look like night. Just a twilight time. There was a bonfire ahead of her, maybe twenty feet away. There were woods all around, but she was in a perfectly circular cleaning. The fire was at the center. She felt like she couldn't breathe properly. There was a great blanket of magic covering her and holding her down. It was suffocating.

June 24th was Litha. Why would Voldemort want to take her to midsummer?

"Come out, come out," called a voice. It was deep and masculine.

Harri rose shakily to her feet. Whatever this was, she would need to face it if she wanted to escape. Had she been sucked into the diary? How was that possible?

She walked towards the fire.

A young man was standing behind it. She could make out his outline, and as she walked closer to him she had to stop herself from gasping.

This was not Lord Voldemort.

He was very tall and lean. He was wearing robes of deep burgundy that made her think of embers and fire. He had dark brown eyes and wavy black hair. His cheekbones were so sharp Harri wondered if she would get cut if she touched them. He was the most painfully good looking person she had ever seen. Harri had never paid much attention to boys before, but this one would be impossible to not pay attention to. This must be the Voldemort of the past. She could remember now, he had told her his name was Tom Riddle.

"Harriet Potter," the young man said. "I've been waiting to see you."

"You're Lord Voldemort," Harri said hoarsely. "But… you don't look like Voldemort."

He laughed, not the high cruel sound that belonged to his future self, but a warm laugh that made her think of chocolate.

"Well, I can't say that does anything for my vanity. Tell me, Harriet, what was it like to meet Lord Voldemort in the flesh."

"I don't know if I'd call it that," Harri said stiffly. "You look horrible in the future though. Rotted and disgusting."

"That's a shame for you I suppose," he said. "I'm sure that won't make Beltane or Litha very fun for you."

"Why would it affect me at all. I'm not going to have anything to do with you," Harri told him.

"We shall see," was all he said.

He walked closer to her, the fire finding new shadows in his face to illuminate. He could go from looking terrifying to handsome in a single flicker of light.

"You aren't much to look at for now," he said taking the end of her braid in his hand. "How old are you, thirteen?"

"Twelve," Harri said trying to pull away. He held fast to her braid, and it hurt to turn her head away.

"Hmm, but maybe there is potential in you. Your hair isn't bad. You haven't grown into your face yet. You're very scrawny, but if you keep up with your Quidditch maybe you'll fill out a bit." He was looking at her very flat backside.

"Get off," Harri said shoving him away feeling uncomfortable. He let go of her braid and let her push him a little back, but he grabbed her wrists before she could pull them back toward herself.

"It's just an honest assessment, Harriet. Lord Voldemort likes his possessions to be pretty. You wouldn't want to disappoint."

"I don't give a damn what Voldemort thinks about me," Harri hissed at him, struggling to get her hands back. He held on tightly. She wondered if he would leave a bruise.

"Oh, but you should. You like me pretty, don't you Harriet? It was plain as day just a few moments ago."

Harri blushed. Of course he knew he was good looking. People who looked like _that_ always knew it. She looked away. This wasn't the game she thought Voldemort would want to play with her. It had an undercurrent of something she couldn't describe. Something she knew she was far too young to experience.

Was it sexuality?

Lavender had given her some of _those_ books to read, and Harri had found them ridiculous. Now she felt like the heroine of one, a helpless witch in the arms of rouge. It felt wrong.

"I'm twelve," Harri told him, doing her best to meet his eyes. "I'm… I don't know about this. I don't want to know."

She began to pull away again in earnest, and he laughed as he let her go.

"You know I was eighteen on this night," he said, gesturing to the fire around him. "I was called into my power just a few weeks earlier, and this was my first ritual as the Dark Lord."

"This night?"

"June 24th, 1945. This is a diary, Harriet. It stores memories of my past."

"You said, before, you said you didn't have any knowledge past 1943."

"Partially true. The diary itself doesn't have specific memories past 1943, but my other half periodically added impression so I'd stay up to date. That ceased around 1970."

"And what, you thought you'd bring me here to reminisce?"

"In a way. Do you know what I found on Litha 1945?"

"Dumbledore, I'm guessing."

"He was here when I arrived," Riddle confirmed. "I told him to go as soon as I arrived. He looked so hurt, as if we'd be bosom friends. Hardly," he laughed and it was much more cruel sounding.

"I could feel what magic wanted, Harriet. It wanted _us_. But my sweet little soulmate wasn't here. My twin flame of magic, yet to be discovered. There is no point in any of this you know," he said gesturing around the circle, "no point at all unless _we're_ the ones performing the rituals. It's _us_ that magic wants. It's done with Dumbledore and Grindelwald."

"As long as Dumbledore is alive I won't be called," Harri told him, backing away. She couldn't go very far, as her back was against the fire.

"I'll fix that, don't worry," he hissed, stepping forward and leaning close. "It will be us before you know it. You'll be good, won't you _Harri_ ," he said winding his hand behind her head and leaning down. Her nickname coming out of his mouth felt mocking and cruel. His lips were very close to hers. "You'll give the magic what it needs, and be a good little simpering Lady of Light to your Lord."

She wanted to cry. "Get away," she said softly, her voice breaking.

He laughed at her again. "Oh Harriet, you're well on your way already. You won't be hard to kowtow at all." He pressed his lips against her forehead and it was like an electric zing of magic went through her.

She gasped, harsh and unbidden. "Can you feel it, Harriet," he whispered in her ear. "The way the magic _wants_ us to come together. I'll make it good for you, don't worry." He let her go and she stumbled forward, almost falling to her knees, but she refused to give him the satisfaction and righted herself.

"Do you mean to say that Beltane and Litha involve sex magic," Harri said, doing her best to meet his dark brown eyes and to speak with a steady voice. 'Sex Magic' sounded harsh and dirty to her ears. Had she ever said the word sex out loud before?

"Did you not know?" he asked mockingly.

"No," Harri said. "Dumbledore said that Beltane was for the living and Samhain for the dead."

"It would be better to call it fertility," the young Voldemort said.

"Why do you think I would participate in a fertility rite with you?" Harri asked. "I'd leave. You couldn't make me."

"On Beltane, you won't have much of a choice," he said smoothly. "At the hight of the sun, the Lord and Lady of Magic should be performing their duty. To bring fertility and prosperity to the land. It will be your calling, Harriet, more than mine. My dominion is over the dark and shadows. Death. Yours is for the light and living."

"It's not like you ever performed the rite with Dumbledore," Harri said, trying not to think of the specifics of such a ritual. "He said you skipped rituals more often than not. I'll skip too. As you say, it won't matter."

"There wasn't a point in performing the rituals without you, Harriet, so I didn't. You are my Lady. You are the one whose magic is like mine. Dumbledore may go out four times a year, but he's paying lip service to old magic that doesn't want him anymore. But once it's us... it will be a call you won't be able to resist."

"That isn't true. I went with him to Samhain and Yule. I felt the magic. It responds to Dumbledore still."

"The magic doesn't do anything," Tom Riddle said with certainty. "It might rise for the moment, but it won't protect any hearths or raise fertility rates for witches and wizards. There is no balance, Harriet. Not until it's you and me."

"Well, it won't be," Harri snapped.

"It will," he said smugly. "You'll do your duty. Dumbledore is setting you up for it, isn't he? A bunch of rot about how I missed the rituals and let the balance go. He's already trying to manipulate you from his future grave."

"SHUT UP!" Harri exclaimed, and she felt her magic finally lash out against the oppressive press of his power.

He laughed again, but it was a different laugh. It was one of real excitement and pleasure. "Oh, Harriet, yes!" he exclaimed. "Look at that magic. You'll be so fun to break. Study hard, little witch. Get big and strong so I can tear you apart." He looked feral, his perfect white teeth reminded her of a predator.

"What are you?" she asked, looking around desperately for a way out. "You aren't just a memory. You talk like you really _are_ him."

"Because I am," he said. "Voldemort is my past, present, and future."

"That doesn't mean anything!" She began to move around the fire, trying to stay out of reach.

"Let me put it this way then," he said. She was opposite him now, and he looked like a demon wreathed in flame. "I am part of Voldemort. When I'm strong I will return to him and bring myself back into power."

"You're a magical reservoir then?" Harri asked. She'd never heard of that before, but there were lots of things she had never heard of before that the Dark Lord knew.

He smirked. "I'm just the same as you, Harriet. A connection. A way to the Dark Lord's return to power."

"I won't help him," Harri said. "He's going to stay dead. I'll fight my whole life if I have to. But you'll only ever be a hateful memory. Dumbledore will help me. We'll destroy you."

His eyes hardened. "You'll see, Harriet Potter. Sooner or later I'll be back with Lord Voldemort. With you or with all the information I've gathered here at Hogwarts. Either way, it will hasten my return."

"And then…" he literally stepped through the fire to grab her, pulling her in with him. She screamed in fear as the flames licked around her, but it didn't hurt. She looked up at the tall man holding her in the fire. His eyes looked red in the reflected light of the flames.

"...you'll burn."


	32. Memoriae: Beltane

She woke up on her bed. The diary was gone.

How was that possible? Harri tried to remember anything after the fire, but there was a fog on her memory again. He had left the memories of the diary and their encounter, but had hidden something else.

Had he made her hide the Diary? She needed to tell Snape and Dumbledore.

Harri got shakily to her feet and felt like she was going to be sick. She was magically exhausted, Harri realized with resignation. Harri looked around her room as she braced herself on the bed. Where were Lavender and Parvati? Judging by the sun it was almost curfew. Shouldn't they have come in by now?

Harri shakily hobbled to the door of her dorm room and opened it. Gulliver instantly came in with a loud yowl. Lavender was leaned on steps looking half asleep.

"Harri!" Lavender exclaimed when she saw her. "We knocked for ages. Gulliver kept yowling and we thought something was wrong. What happened?"

"Get a teacher," Harri said weakly.

"Parvati already went to get McGonagall," Lavender said getting up and letting Harri lean on her.

"That's good then," said Harri weakly and slid down the wall to the ground and let herself fall into a half sleep. She heard McGonagall when the teacher arrived. How much time had passed? It felt like only the blink of an eye.

"She's been like this since she came out," Harri heard Lavender say. "I don't know what's wrong with her or why we couldn't open our door."

"I'll take Miss. Potter to the infirmary, Miss. Brown," said McGonagall. She cast a spell and Harri felt like she was floating. Her stomach turned and she threw up. McGonagall let the spell drop, and Harri was back on solid ground.

"On second thought," said the teacher, "Please ask Mr. Wood to come and help me carry Miss. Potter. It appears magic doesn't agree with her."

It was a muffled blur after that. She thought she heard McGonagall tell Ginny to get her a change of clothes and something about a pause on an enchantment to someone else. There were strong arms around her and a soft rocking motion from movement that lulled her to sleep again.

She woke in the morning to a bright Hospital Wing. The bright light hurt her eyes. She groped for her glasses, and someone handed them to her.

She blinked rapidly until her vision focused and saw the unsmiling faces of Dumbledore and Snape.

"Good Morning, Harriet," Snape said with an unhappy scowl.

"Harri," greeted Dumbledore. His eyes lacked their usual twinkle.

"It was the diary," Harri told them. "I can remember it all now. I stopped Filch from grabbing it after I found it, and after that, it was all black. I woke up on my bed with it, and it made me write in it. It sucked me inside…." she trailed off.

Snape looked very angry. "And you didn't think it was best to get a teacher instead of trying to deal with that book by yourself?"

"I was trying to get a teacher, but I couldn't just leave it! What if someone else picked it up?"

Snape didn't have anything to say that. He stood up and walked around the room looking like he wanted to curse something.

Dumbledore leaned in and said softly, "I think we all feel a bit helpless at the moment, Harri. Mr. Filch says that you ran away from him this afternoon after 'flagrant disregard for rules about magic in the corridors.'"

"I don't know what happened after I touched the diary. I didn't hurt anyone, did I?"

"Not as far as we know," Dumbledore reassured.

"Do you know where it is?"

"We searched your rooms and found no sign of it."

"How is that possible? Lavender said the door was locked. I didn't leave the room."

Dumbledore looked much older and frailer than usual. "I do not know Harri. But perhaps your experience will help us. Now that you can describe what happened to the Board of Governors I believe they will approve a search of the student's belongings."

"Yes!" Harri exclaimed. "Anything to help."

* * *

Weeks passed and nothing happened.

"I can't believe that Malfoy has the Governors so deep in his pocket that they won't investigate," said Ron testily.

"I can," said Neville. "The Malfoy's are rich beyond all imagining."

"This isn't right!" Harri said in frustration, kicking the leg of a table. Her toe began to throb.

It wasn't all bad news. Everyone thought Harri had been exercised of the ghost of Salazar Slytherin with her most recent visit to the Hospital Wing. It was now nearly four months since Justin and Nearly Headless Nick had been Petrified, and nearly everyone seemed to think it was over. Peeves got bored of singing various diddys about Harri, Ernie Macmillan asked Harri quite politely to pass a bucket of leaping toadstools in Herbology one day, and that very day several of the Mandrakes threw a loud and raucous party in greenhouse three. This made Professor Sprout very happy.

"The moment they start trying to move into each other's pots, we'll know they're fully mature," she told Harri. "Then we'll be able to revive those poor people in the hospital wing."

The second years were given something new to think about during their Easter holidays. The time had come to choose their subjects for third year, a matter that Hermione would have taken very seriously.

"She'd probably try to sign up for all of them," said Neville wistfully.

The second years had a choice between Divination, Arithmancy, and Muggle Studies for their first elective and Ancient Runes or Care of Magical Creatures for their second.

Divination seemed to be the big pick among the second year Gryffindors. Ron and Neville both planned to sign up since it would be an easy O or E, as did Parvati and Lavender when Harri consulted them.

"Useless tosh," Snape told her in reference to Divination that Friday over brewing. "There are true seers and true prophecy, but unless you are gifted with the sight there is no point in studying that drivel."

"I wish I could take Ancient Runes and Care of Magical Creatures," Harri groused. "I like both. Why are they at the same time?"

"Your third-year schedules are such that the entire year has the same elective slots. It's impossible to coordinate it otherwise," Snape told her.

"I guess I'll take Arithmancy then," Harri said. "I don't need to take Muggle Studies."

"I should think not," Snape said with a snort. "Arithmancy is useful in more advanced potioneering. I'm sure it will be a good pick for you." Snape's face got a bit wistful, "Your mother was a natural at it. I must confess, I've never used it for anything more than Potions. The more delicate aspects of it are lost on me. Your mother though..." and he trailed off.

Her mother

"Do you really think I'll be advanced enough in potions to need Arithmancy?" Harri asked hopefully.

"You better be," said Snape with an evil gleam. "I don't dedicate such effort to many students."

"Do you think I should take Ancient Runes or Care of Magical Creatures?" Harri asked Snape gloomily after adding crushed batwing to her brew.

"That is entirely up to you, Harriet."

"You're no help at all," Harri said, stamping her foot.

"It's your life, Harriet. Both are useful classes. You should do what you like," he said. "Now stop all this talking. I need you to get another venom sample from the Runespoor."

In the end, Harri chose Care of Magical Creatures. She loved Zoology, and her last summer with Snape exploring Africa had been the most amazing experience of her life. It was odd, she thought, that she was setting herself up to be a Potions Mistress. When she had first heard about magic potions had been the last subject she would have pictured as witchcraft. Potioneering was not showy or flashy. It was like cooking but required intimate knowledge of ingredients and mathematic formulas.

Snape had told her several times that her mother had been well on her way to becoming a Potions Mistress within the Healer Program at St. Mungos. Maybe Lily Potter had left her more than protection in Harri's blood.

* * *

"I don't want to go," Harri told Dumbledore on the morning of May 1st. It was Beltane, and after her conversation with Tom Riddle, Harri didn't want anything to do with the sex ritual.

"Why ever not?" asked Dumbledore who was wearing his plain homespun robes again. He had sent Harri similar robes the week before, and she had reluctantly put them on before heading to meet Dumbledore in the Great Hall at 9.

" _He_ told me what this ritual is. I don't want to go."

Dumbledore tilted his head, "I'd be very curious to know what Lord Voldemort told you of Beltane considering he's never participated in it properly."

"He said there was... " Harri dropped her voice to a whisper, "sex."

"Yes, for mature adult _consenting_ witches and wizards, that is a part of it."

"I don't want to see anything involving that," Harri said.

"You won't," Dumbledore told her. "You and I will be going to Germany to pay homage to a very important tree."

"A tree? What does that have to do with fertility?"

"You won't know unless you come," he said mysteriously and headed toward the door.

He knew she would follow, and Harri ran to catch up.

When they appeared at their destination, it was in the woods. "Welcome," said Dumbledore, "to the Black Forest. Or the Myrkviðr as it used to be known."

"Like the fairytales?" Harri asked, looking around at the foggy woods they had appeared in. This forest was very old, and it seemed like the sort of place where witches could terrorize Muggles.

"Just so," said Dumbledore, as he began to walk towards the east. "We came in about a mile away. It would be rude to apparate right up on her."

"Her being…?" Harri asked, jogging to keep up with Dumbledore's long stride.

"Yggdrasil," as if that described someone Harri should know.

"Who?" Harri asked.

"The tree I mentioned," said Dumbledore looking somber. "Her name is Yggdrasil."

"Why does a tree have a name?" Harri asked.

"Why does anyone? Because someone gave her a name. Yggdrasil is a very famous tree. Even the Muggles know about her. She's quite prominent in Norse Mythology."

"I don't know much about Norse mythology," Harri confessed.

"Where to start then," said Dumbledore contemplatively. "I suppose it is best to say that Yggdrasil is the root of much of our magic, Harri. Her roots extend deep and far throughout mainland Europe."

"A tree is responsible for magic? Then why doesn't it get taught about in school?"

"It is in more advanced magical theory. There are several children's tales as well. However, British Wizards are under the misapprehension that since Yggdrasil's roots do not reach Britain, that her magic is not _ours._ They are quite incorrect. Her roots reach the outer shores of Britain. Part of the reason why our ancestors built so many henges was to channel the magic from the roots throughout the isles.

"Is that how the territory works?" Harri asked with new understanding. "You're the Lord of Light for areas that have Yggdrasil's roots."

"Very good, Harri!" Dumbledore said cheerfully.

"Why does our magic work in other places then? Snape's magic worked fine while we were in Africa."

"The gift of a magical core comes from Yggdrasil for British born witches and wizards. No matter what _you_ have magic once you're born with it. It's in every part of your body. Professor Snape would have found that if he became magically depleted it would be much harder to recover, but still entirely possible given time. It is hard to say how our magic relates to that of Yggdrasil once we are born. However, if the tree were destroyed magic would cease to be born in Europe. I do not know if all magic users would suddenly find themselves squibs, but the magic would die out."

"All of the magic in Europe would be destroyed?" Harri asked, stopping in her tracks.

"Scary, isn't it?" answered Dumbledore, looking back at her.

"Why doesn't everyone talk about Yggdrasil all the time then? She sounds like the most important thing in the magical world."

"Most Ministers agree that it is best to let the knowledge of the tree be passing. The less the public knows about her, the less likely she is to come under attack."

"Do you agree?"

"In which capacity? As the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards, I am inclined to say that the magical center of every territory must be protected to the greatest extent possible. If the Confederation was voted for secrecy, so be it."

"And as the Lord of Light?"

"As the European Lord of Light, I am inclined to protect Yggrdasil against any threat. I do not believe secrecy is how we best achieve that. The more who know of her, the more who will add layers of protection around her."

"Is she in any danger?" Harri asked, worried.

"Not that I know of. If there is one thing Voldemort and I always agreed upon, it was the protection of this tree. The stronger she is, the more likely magically gifted children will be born."

"So it is a fertility rite," Harri said, stopping.

"Not for me," he said. He looked at with his piercing blue eyes and said in a serious tone, "My time is done, Harri. It has been over since 1945. I have been waiting a long time for my successor. Whether or not you will be called to such an act remains to be seen. Voldemort would need to corporeal, and unless he is this conversation is irrelevant. But, if Yggdrasil asks it of you, I implore you to remember that the blessings of magic will extend beyond old families. New blood, people like Miss. Granger and your mother will find their way into our fold."

Harri wanted to gag. "He was right, you're already trying to talk me into it," she said backing away.

"Who was right?" Dumbledore asked gently.

"The Diary, Tom. I know I didn't tell you and Snape that he spoke to me, but I didn't want to say. It was too much!"

"What did Tom Riddle show you?" Dumbledore asked softly.

"Litha. 1945. He told me that you would try and make me do the fertility rites. That I would never have a choice. That he would make me…" her magic started to lash out painfully and her breathing came out in sharp gasps. Harri had tried to compartmentalize all this, to not think about the fact that she might have to have sex with the monster on the back of Quirrel's head. She could sometimes still smell the rotting flesh in her dreams.

It wasn't Dumbledore that did anything to calm her down. Instead, Harri felt a wave of calm magic wrap around her like a hug. Her breathing evened out almost instantly. Her magic was still extended and dancing around her, but it was no longer lashing in fear and anger. Instead, it was blending and breathing with the magic of…

Yggdrasil.

The tree could have been fifty feet tall or could be too tall to see the top of. Her eyes couldn't focus on the hight and girth of the great tree. It had evergreen needles and wide sweeping branches that reached well over Harri's head and several meters over the path she and Dumbledore had walked.

She was beautiful, the most beautiful thing Harri had ever seen. She could practically see the leaf green magic swirling around the magnificent tree.

"She's a yew tree," Dumbledore told her. "Yew wood represents death but it is Yggdrasil that brings magical life. Fitting, isn't it?"

"She's amazing," Harri breathed.

"I'm sure she would like to meet you," Dumbledore said, pushing Harri forward, causing her to almost trip over a large root.

"How do you meet a tree?" Harri asked Dumbledore, feeling nervous. The tree's magic brushed against her as if amused.

"Hello," Harri said, pushing out still more of her magic to dance with the tree's. It really was like holding hands with your mother, the warmest and most comforting thing Harri had ever felt.

"That's about right," Dumbledore said with a chuckle, his own magic free and dancing with the tree. If they hadn't been with such the enormous power source of Yggdrasil, Harri would have been floored with the amount of power Dumbledore had. She had some inkling from Samhain, but this was on a new level. His power unbounded was awesome.

She would never compare to him, she thought gloomily. If Voldemort returned and she was the one called to hold him in check it wouldn't go well.

Harri felt like she had been flicked on the nose. Yggdrasil brushed magic over Harri's ears, and Harri could almost hear the tree say, ' _I would not have chosen you, daughter, if you could not handle him_.'

"How can you know?" Harri asked the tree.

 _'It is who I am,'_ she felt the tree answer. ' _Give it time, you will grow into who you need to be. You are but a sapling.'_

The magic faded somewhat, and Harri could tell the conversation was over. She looked at Dumbledore who was looking up at the tree with adoration.

"What do we need to do for Beltane?" she asked.

"Since there is no fertility rite, some bloodletting will do," Dumbledore told her. "Over on the altar at her base."

It wasn't so different from Samhain. Harri cut her palm and let the blood drip onto the stone altar that was obviously intended for sexual intercourse. Would that be her future? Pinned to a stone altar while the Dark Lord took.

A breeze ruffled Harri's unbound hair, and it was like Yggdrasil was trying to blow Harri's worries away on the wind.

It wasn't for today to worry about that.

* * *

Ginny was scared.

She had flushed the diary away, she was certain she had. She had finally been free of Tom, of the memory blackouts and the feelings that the Chamber of Secrets had something to do with her.

Yet, somehow, the diary was back in her possession again.

Harri had been sick, and Ginny had felt pulled. A tug on her magic that she couldn't refuse. She had already gone into her dorm room when McGonagall told her to get a change of clothes. Then, before she could explain it herself, she had opened Harri's bedside table and slipped the diary into her robe pocket.

She was out of control. She tried to hide the diary, to tell someone about Tom, or to get rid of it again. But something was wrong with her. She couldn't seem to let it out of her sight. When she tried to open her mouth it was like her tongue got glued to the roof.

Worst of all, she couldn't stop writing in it.

She cried wet tears as she confided every fear she had about Tom _to_ Tom. He gave her platitudes, but Ginny could tell that he was just humoring some game he was playing with her.

She felt so tired and weak. Her reflection kept getting paler and paler. Her eyes weren't even brown anymore, they were a sad faded grey. Would anyone notice that she was just fading away?

The end was coming, and it was a strange thing to know that you were going to get killed by your diary. Then it would over at least. Then she would be dead and no one would get hurt anymore.

That perception changed one morning in early May when Ginny found herself in the owerly. She was writing a letter that was no in her hand.

 _L_

 _The final act will begin today. Take discussed actions_

 _V_

She didn't want to send the letter. She fought her own shaking hands harder than she had in months. She wouldn't send. She wouldn't!

Except she did. She could almost hear laughter.

' _Oh silly Ginny,'_ whispered Tom in her mind as her world faded into grey nothingness.

* * *

Gryffindor's next Quidditch match was against Hufflepuff. Wood had insisted on team practices every night after dinner for the last two weeks, thus Harri barely had time for anything but Quidditch and homework. However, the training sessions were getting better, or at least drier.

The Saturday of the match they woke up to brilliant sunshine and a light refreshing breeze.

"Perfect Quidditch conditions!" said Wood enthusiastically at the Gryffindor table, loading the team's plates with scrambled eggs.

Harri had been staring down the packed Gryffindor table at her cheerful house. She had received many cheerful waves that morning. She felt angry at her house. When they had thought she was the heir of Slytherin they had refused to speak to her, but now that she would win them a Quidditch game they acted like Harri was their friend.

' _What would they do if they knew about Voldemort?_ ' Harri thought, rubbing her silver mark cover self consciously. If having a Dark ability was worth ostracizing her for months, having the Dark Lord for a soulmate would probably be worth never speaking to her again.

As she left the Great Hall with Ron and Neville to go and collect her Quidditch things, another very serious worry was added to Harri's morose thoughts. She had just set foot on the marble staircase when she heard it yet again.

" _Kill this time… let me rip… tear"_

She shouted aloud and Ron and Neville both jumped away from her in alarm.

"The voice!" said Harri, looking over her shoulder. "I just heard it again- the snake!"

Ron and Neville looked at her with wide eyes. "What did it say?" Neville asked.

"It wants to kill this time. We have to tell the teachers! People have to get out of the school"

"Well good thing there is a Quidditch match," said Ron, as people began to emerge from the Great Hall behind them, talking loudly, exiting through the front doors on their way to the Quidditch pitch.

Lavender and Parvati were exiting the great hall and Harri flagged them down. "Could you go with Ron and Neville to get my Quidditch things?" she asked in a rush. "I need to talk to Snape before the match. It's really important!"

"Yes, of course, Harri," said a worried look Parvati. "Is something wrong?"

"Yes, I think another attack is going to happen." Both girls went pale.

"Should we really be going to get Quidditch things then?" asked Lavender.

Harri opened her mouth, but then closed it again. "That's a very good point," Harri conceded. "You should all get out. Tell Wood I'm going to help the teachers. Don't let anyone come back into the castle."

All four students looked nervous but agreed.

Harri rushed to the Great Hall, where Snape will still sitting at the head table talking to Professor Vector, the Arithmancy professor.

"Professor Snape!" Harri called as she rushed into the hall. Snape looked up and glared at Harri.

"No running in the halls, Harriet."

"That doesn't matter," she said skidding to a halt in front of Snape. "I heard the snake again. It's going to attack someone!"

Flitwick, Sprout, and Vector reacted nearly as quickly as Snape did. All had their wands out in an instant.

"Get out of the building, Harriet, now," Snape said. He cast _"Sonorus!"_

"ALL STUDENTS ARE TO EXIT THE SCHOOL, NOW!" Snape's booming voice rang out.

The fifty or so students who were left in the Great Hall reacted in a panic and began rushing to the doors.

Flitwick started out too, "I'll go and look for stragglers and get them out," he squeaked.

"I'll go to the Headmaster," said Sprout, also hurrying out of the hall.

"Use a reflective surface around corners," Snape reminded in his booming voice them as they left. He turned back to Harri, and cast " _Quietus"_

"Out," he told her.

"You won't know where the snake is," Harri told him. "You need me. I'm the only one who can hear it."

"That isn't-" Harri cut him off.

"If you want to catch it, you need me to help you find it."

Snape didn't look happy. "I'm blindfolding you," he said.

"What? No." Harri said. "The diary doesn't want to kill me," she said. "I'm probably the safest person in this school."

But Snape would hear none of it. He made Harri wrap her tie around her eyes and then led her by the hand out of the great hall with Professor Vector.

"Where to?" Vector asked her.

"It sounded like it went left," said Harri. "Maybe towards the library."

The professors set out briskly. Harri didn't know if they were checking corners or not, but she doubted it since they were in such a hurry. As they turned a corner, the hiss came into Harri's hearing.

" _Yessss_ , I will tear," it said, clearly pleased.

 _"NO!"_ Harri shouted, and was surprised that it came out in Parseltongue.

"Faster!" she managed in English, and Snape began to run, pulling Harri along.

Then they came to a sudden halt. Neither Snape nor Professor Vector said anything for a long moment. Snape let Harri's hand drop and Professor Vector let out a small choked sob.

" _Expecto Patronum,"_ said Snape, and Harri could tell a bright light appeared from the spell. "The library," he said and the light faded.

"Can I take off the blindfold?" Harri asked, not sure she wanted to know what they had found.

Snape didn't say anything, but Vector placed a soft hand on Harri's shoulder. "It would be better if you didn't see, Miss. Potter."

She pulled the tie off.

A pretty Ravenclaw girl with curly blonde hair was laying on the floor. She wasn't rigid the way the other victims of the Basilisk had been. She was limp and splayed out on the floor without a mark on her. Her very fair skin was unnaturally pale.

She was dead.


	33. Memoriae: Stupefy

Percy Weasely was sitting in a chair behind Lee Jordan and seemed lost in his own world. He would usually try and force the noisy common room into some kind of order, but tonight he let everyone talk loudly.

Fear hung heavily amongst the Gryffindors.

"Percy's in shock," George told Harri quietly. "That Ravenclaw girl- Penelope Clearwater- she's a prefect. I don't think he thought the monster would dare attack a _prefect._ "

"You're wrong," came the quiet voice of Ginny Weasley. "She was his girlfriend."

Fred and George looked over at Ginny in shock. "What? Percy wasn't dating her!"

"He was writing to her all last summer," said Ginny sadly. "They were meeting all over the school in secret. I walked in on them kissing in an empty classroom one day. He was worried you'd tease him and made me promise not to tell."

Ginny had fat tears in her eyes as she looked over at Percy. He looked like he was going to cry too. Pompous Percy, more annoying than any other Gryffindor except maybe Colin Creevy, had lost his girlfriend to the monster.

Fred and George were baffled. "Was she his soulmate?" George asked Ginny.

She shook her head, "I don't think so. They just liked each other."

"I guess that's better," Fred said, looking at George helplessly.

"Nothing about this is better. Or good," Ginny said, suddenly angry. "It's horrible. How can this still be happening? When will it just be over?" She stormed off to her dorm.

"We have to stop this," Harri said softly to Ron and Neville. "We have to find that book."

"Where would we even look?" asked Neville hopelessly.

"Maybe we have to get to know the enemy," Ron said. "You can't win at chess unless you know who you're playing against. Hagrid knew Tom Riddle in school, didn't he?"

"He framed Hagrid, they must have known each other," Harri agreed.

"McGonagall said we've got to stay in our tower unless we're in class," Neville cautioned. "What if it gets us?"

"I don't think it will," Harri said. "It said it was going to tear…" Harri stopped as she remembered Penelope Clearwater's dead body… "I told it to stop and it didn't touch her body. If we run into it, it will listen to me."

"Are you sure Harri?" Neville asked her.

"No, but we have to do something. I think it's time we pulled out my dad's old cloak."

Harri had inherited just one thing from her father: a long and silver Invisibility Cloak. It was their only chance of sneaking out of the school to visit Hagrid without anyone knowing about it. They went to bed at the usual time, and waited for their roommates to finally fall asleep, then got dressed again and met in the Common Room.

"This is a bad idea," Neville moaned as Harri threw the cloak over them.

The journey through the dark and deserted castle corridors wasn't enjoyable. Harri, who had wandered the castle at night several times before, had never seen it so crowded after sunset. Teachers, prefects, and ghosts were marching the corridors in pairs, staring around for any unusual activity. The Invisibility Cloak didn't stop them making any noise, and there was a particularly tense moment when Ron stubbed his toe only ten meters from the spot where Snape stood standing guard. Thankfully, Snape sneezed at almost exactly the moment Ron swore. It was with relief that they reached the oak front doors and eased them open.

Don't do anything foolish, Snape would tell her. Did this count as foolish? Certainly, but Penelope was dead. The time for caution was over.

It was a clear, starry night. They hurried toward the lit windows of Hagrid's house and pulled off the Cloak only when they were right outside his front door.

Seconds after they had knocked, Hagrid flung it open. They found themselves face-to-face with him aiming a crossbow at them. Fang the boarhound barked loudly behind him.

"Oh," he said, lowering the weapon and staring at them. "What're you three doin' here?"

"What's that for?" asked Harri, pointing at the crossbow as they stepped inside.

"Nothin'- nothin'-" Hagrid muttered. "I've been expetin'- doesn't matter- Sit down- I'll make tea-"

He hardly seemed to know what he was doing. He nearly extinguished the fire, spilling water from the kettle on it, and then smashed the teapot with a nervous jerk of his massive hand.

"Are you okay, Hagrid?" asked Harri. "Did you hear about Penelope?"

"Oh, I heard, all righ'," said Hagrid, a slight break in his voice. He kept glancing nervously at the windows. He poured them large mugs of boiling water (he had forgotten to add tea bags) and was just putting a slab of fruitcake on a plate when there was a loud knock on the door.

Hagrid dropped the fruitcake. Ron, Harri, and Neville exchanged panic-stricken looks, then threw the Invisibility Cloak back over themselves and retreated into a corner. Hagrid checked that they were hidden, seized his crossbow, and flung open his door once more.

"Good evening, Hagrid."

It was Dumbledore. He entered, looking deadly serious, and was followed by a second, very odd-looking man.

The stranger had rumpled grey hair and an anxious expression, and was wearing a strange mixture of clothes: a pinstriped suit, scarlet tie, a long black cloak, and pointed purple books. Under his arm, he carried a lime green bowler.

"That's Dad's boss!" Ron breathed. "Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic!"

Harri and Neville both elbowed Ron hard to make him shut up.

Hagrid had gone pale and sweaty. He dropped into one of his chairs and looked from Dumbledore to Cornelius Fudge.

"Bad business, Hagrid," said Fudge in rather clipped tones. "Very bad business. Had to come. Four attacks on Muggle-borns, a girl dead. Things've gone far enough. The Ministry's got to act."

"I never," said Hagrid, looking imploringly at Dumbledore. "You know I never, Professor Dumbledore, sir-"

"I want it understood, Cornelius, that Hagrid has my full confidence," said Dumbledore, frowning at Fudge. "As I've said, we need to search the students' belongs. As you can see from our report of the different attacks, there is an item-"

"Look, Albus," said Fudge, uncomfortably. "Hagrid's record's against him. The ministry's got to do something- the school governors have been in touch-"

"Yet again, Cornelius, I tell you that taking Hagrid away will not help in the slightest," said Dumbledore. His blue eyes were full of fire. The cabin began to fill with Dumbledore's electric energy. Ron and Neville, who had never felt the Light Lord's power before, both let out small gasps.

"Stop," the man squeaked. The energy leveled out. "Look at it from my point of view," said Fudge, fidgeting with his bowler. "I'm under a lot of pressure. Got to be seen to be doing something. If it turns out it wasn't Hagrid, he'll be back and no more said. But I've got to take him. Got to. Wouldn't be doing my duty-"

"Take me?" said Hagrid who was trembling. "Take me where?"

"For a short stretch only," said Fudge, not meeting Hagrid's eyes. "Not a punishment, Hagrid, more a precaution. If someone else is caught, you'll be let out with a full apology-"

"Not Azkaban?" croaked Hagrid.

Harri had to restrain a gasp. No trial? Just straight to Azkaban with no proof? It wasn't just. She wanted to burst out from under her cloak and tell Fudge she would match whatever Lucius Malfoy had promised, but just don't take Hagrid away.

Before any such action could happen, there was a loud rap on the door.

Dumbledore answered it. It was Harri's turn for an elbow in the ribs' she'd let out an audible gasp.

Mr. Lucius Malfoy strode into Hagrid's hut, swathed in a long black traveling cloak, smiling a cold and satisfied smile. Fang started to growl.

"Already here, Fudge," he said approvingly. "Good, good…"

"What're you don' here?" said Hagrid furiously. "Get outta my house!"

"My dear man, please, believe me, I have no pleasure at all being inside you- er- d'you call this a house?" said Lucius Malfoy, sneering as he looked around the small cabin. "I simply called at the school and was told that the headmaster was here."

"And what exactly did you want with me Lucius?" said Dumbledore. He spoke politely, but the fire was still blazing in his blue eyes, and the energy of his magic still pulled at Harri's skin.

" _Dreadful_ thing, Dumbledore," said Malfoy lazily, taking out a long roll of parchment, "but the governors feel it's time for you to step aside. This is an Order of Suspension- you'll find all twelve signatures on it. I'm afraid we feel you're losing your touch. How many attacks have there been now? And a girl dead. At this rate, there'll be no Muggle-borns left at Hogwarts, and we all know what an _awful_ loss that would be to the school."

"Oh, now, see here Lucius," said Fudge, looking alarmed, "Dumbledore suspended- no, no- last thing we want just now-"

"The appointment- or suspension- of the headmaster is a matter for the governors, Fudge," said Mr. Malfoy smoothly. "And as Dumbledore has failed to stop these attacks-"

"See here, Malfoy, if _Dumbledore_ can't stop them," said Fudge, whose upper lip was sweating now, "I mean, to say, who _can_?"

"Aren't you taking the man responsible now, Fudge?" Malfoy asked, lip curling. "All twelve of us have voted-" he said with a nasty smile.

Hagrid leapt to his feet, his shaggy black head grazing the ceiling.

"An' how many did yet have ter threaten an' blackmail before they agreed, Malfoy, eh?" he roared.

"Dear, dear, you know, that temper of yours will lead you into trouble one of these days Hagrid," said Mr. Malfoy. "I would advise you not to shout at the Azkaban guards like that. They won't like it all."

Harri's hands started to clam up. Dementors. Was Hagrid's very soul going to be in danger because Malfoy refused to search the school? Because Malfoy planted a book? Her magic started to crackle through the air.

Malfoy looked up and around, meeting Dumbledore's eyes in confusion.

"Yeh can' take Dumbledore!" yelled Hagrid, making Fang the boarhound cower and whimper in his basket. "Take him away, an' the Muggle-borns won' stand a chance!"

Ron gripped Harri's arm tightly. "Calm down," he hissed. Lucius Malfoy was looking around the cabin in earnest now. Did he seem… hopeful?

" _Everyone_ needs to calm down," said Dumbledore sharply. He looked at Lucius Malfoy, but from the touch of his magic, Harri could tell he meant her. She focused and got her magic under control. She was so furious though. She wanted to blow Mr. Malfoy through the door.

"If the governors want my removal, Lucius, I shall, of course, step aside- "

"But-" stuttered Fudge.

"NO!" growled Hagrid.

Dumbledore had not taken his bright blue eyes off Lucius Malfoy's cold grey ones.

"However," said Dumbledore, speaking very slowly and clearly so that none of them could miss a word, "you will find that I will only _truly_ have left this school when none here are loyal to me. You will also find that help will always be given at Hogwarts to those who ask for it."

Harri met Dumbledore's eyes which flicked over to the corner where they were hiding.

"Admirable sentiments," said Malfoy, bowing. "We shall miss your- highly individual way of running things, Albus, and only hope that your successor will manage to prevent any future _killings_."

He looked around again, and it struck Harri that he wasn't looking for her at all. Voldemort had commented multiple times that their magic felt similar. Lucius Malfoy didn't think it was Harri Potter hiding nearby, he thought it was Voldemort.

With a satisfied smile, he strode to the cabin door, opened it, and bowed Dumbledore out. Fudge, fiddling with his bowler, waited for Hagrid to go ahead of him, but Hagrid stood his ground, took a deep breath, and said carefully, "If anyone wanted ter find out some _stuff_ , all they'd have ter do would be ter follow the _spiders_. That'd lead 'em right! That's all I'm sayin'."

Fudge stared at him in amazement.

"All right, I'm comin'," said Hagrid pulling on his moleskin overcoat. But as he was about to follow Fudge through the door, he stopped again and said loudly, "An' someone'll need ter feed Fang while I'm away."

The door banged shut and Neville pulled off the Invisibility Cloak.

"We're in trouble now," said Ron hoarsely. "No Dumbledore. They might as well close the school tonight. There'll be an attack a day with him gone."

Neville turned towards Harri, "Follow the spiders? What could that mean?"

Harri didn't know. She needed to talk to Snape. It couldn't wait till morning to let him know that Dumbledore was gone.

* * *

She dropped Ron and Neville off at the common room before heading back down to where Snape had been earlier. He wasn't there. Her next stop was Snape's room. The man had to sleep sometime, didn't he?

She slipped in and banged on his ajar bedroom door.

"Are you here?" she asked loudly.

She heard Snape's muffled curse as he woke, and he appeared his bedroom doorway wand brandished looking very sour.

"No," he said angrily. "I am dreaming. You are not wandering around Hogwarts at night with a monster on the loose, you stupid girl."

"I'll have you know I was wandering around the grounds at night too. Guess who I ran into? Lucius Malfoy. The Governors voted and…"

"And Dumbledore had been dismissed. Yes. Do you think the Headmaster would leave the school without mine and Minerva's knowledge? In a time like this?"

Harri deflated. "Well… maybe. I don't know."

"Now you do," said the grumpy man who walked over to his office desk and pulled out a bottle of firewhisky and filled a tumbler nearly to the brim.

"Hagrid got taken to Azkaban."

"I'm not surprised. Who came to get him? Shacklebolt?"

"Fudge," Harri said.

"Hmm… he must want to seem like he's really doing something." Snape mused.

"Hagrid said something strange as he left, to follow the spiders," Harr told Snape. "It really must be a basilisk. Spiders are their natural enemy."

"Hagrid was trying to send you into the forest?" Snape said looking furious. "Of all the idiotic…" Snape took a large gulp of whiskey.

"I know the forest is dangerous, but I've been there before," Harri shrugged. "Can you help me follow the spiders? To learn the truth."

"There is no new truth to learn," Snape answered firmly. "All those monsters will tell you is that Hagrid did not open the Chamber, which we already know. We know who is opening it. We even know how. We just don't know who that damned book is using."

"What do you mean, monsters in the forest?" Harri asked. Hagrid wouldn't ask her to do something dangerous… what was she saying? It was Hagrid, who had no conception of what was dangerous. The man had adopted a dragon last year.

"Have you heard of Acromantula?"

"They're a five x creature, a giant spider. Their venom and eggs are useful in paralysis potions."

"There is a large colony that lives in the Forest," Snape told her. "Hagrid once heard me complain at the rising prices of their venom and told me he could acquire it easily for me. The fact that he did," Snape shivered. "Horrid beasts."

"Why would Hagrid try to send me to talk to an Acromantula?"

"I suspect because it would be able to tell you that it did not come from the Chamber of Secrets or kill Penelope. Then it would proceed to eat you. That fool of a man, sending you to talk to it. It wouldn't care that you are friends with Hagrid."

She felt sick to her stomach. "I suppose we know that it wasn't a giant spider," Harri said.

"Obviously. There wasn't a mark on Penelope, and from the report I've read of the last girl who died- she was found dead in a bathroom without a thing wrong with her, other than the fact that she was dead. There would be nothing left if an Acromantula got to those girls."

Snape poured another drink, this one smaller. He swirled around the whiskey in his glass, lost in thought.

"Should we just break the rules and search the students anyway?" Harri asked.

"It may come to that," Snape said. "It would be a one-way ticket to Azkaban for any teacher who participated. Abuse of authority and endangering minors would be the charge." He drained the tumbler but decided against pouring another.

"What do we do then?" Harri asked.

"Go to bed, Harriet," Snape told her with a grimace. "We will figure this out in the daylight. There won't be a solution tonight."

"Shall I head back to my dorn?" Harri asked.

"No. Sleep here."

"Goodnight," she said, heading to her room. All the energy felt drained out of her. It was all one giant mess. Penelope Clearwater was dead, what if Hogwarts was shut down? The Basilisk had to be stopped- Voldemort had to be stopped.

There had to be another clue, some way to puzzle this all out.

She laid down in bed. She was getting very close to sleep when something Snape said occurred to her.

The girl who had died last time- she was found in a bathroom.

What if she had never left?

* * *

"I'm going to talk to Myrtle," Harri told Neville and Ron the next morning at breakfast.

"Why would you do that?" Ron asked absently as he buttered his toast.

"Snape told me that the girl who died last time was found in a bathroom."

Ron dropped his toast.

"She's the ghost of a student," Neville whispered.

Only it turned out to be a lot harder to sneak off to go see Myrtle than Harri expected. The students were escorted everywhere. From meals to class, then back to their common rooms. Harri tried to sneak out one night, but there was a prefect stationed right outside the portrait hole who would notice if the Fat Lady swung open.

It wasn't until three days before the first exam that Harri finally found her opportunity.

It started with an announcement at breakfast.

"I have good news," Professor McGonagall said.

"Dumbledore's coming back!" several people yelled joyfully.

"You've caught the Heir of Slytherin!" squealed a girl at the Ravenclaw table.

"Quidditch matches are back on!" roared Wood, who had been in a dark mood ever since the canceled Hufflepuff match.

When the hubbub had subsided, Professor McGonagall said, "Professor Sprout has informed me that the Mandrakes are ready for cutting at last. Tonight, we will be able to revive those people who have been Petrified. I need hardly remind you all that one of them may well be able to tell us who, or what, attacked them. I am hopeful that this dreadful year will end with our catching the culprit."

There was an explosion of cheering. Harri looked over at the Slytherin table and met Draco Malfoy's eye. Hermione would be vulnerable to attack again once she woke up. Unless, by some chance, they knew who had the book, it wouldn't matter. What if the Basilisk attacked again and Hermione died?

Draco's look of worry told Harri all she needed to know. She needed to talk to Myrtle before Hermione got woken up. Harri had taken to keeping her invisibility cloak in her bag. She would just need to throw it on in the loo off the Great Hall and then head up to the second floor.

Before Harri could enact her plan, Ginny Weasley came over and sat down next to Ron. She looked tense and nervous, and Harri noticed that her hands were twisting in her lap.

"Spit it out," said Ron, watching her.

Harri suddenly realized that Ginny's hands were shaking the same way that her own had when Tom Riddle had taken control. Could Ginny….?

The fog filled her mind again, but Harri fought through it. The fog could only mean she was close to remembering something. Could Ginny have the book? Where had Tom made her take it that night before term started….

It was murky, but Harri could almost remember the first year dorm.

"I've got to tell you something," Ginny mumbled. She said the words like her tongue wouldn't work right.

"Ginny-" Harri began, but Percy, looking wan and tired, appeared behind them.

"If you've finished eating, I'll take that seat, Ginny."

Ginny jumped up as though her chair had just been electrified, gave Percy a fleeting, frightened look, and bolted out of the hall.

Harri rushed after her.

Ginny dashed up the marble staircase before Harri could stop her. She pelted up the stairs quick as a whip, but Harri was fast too. They went racing down the second-floor corridor, and Ginny dashed into a bathroom.

Harri wrenched open the door ready to confront the girl and get the diary away from her...

...when she realized her mistake.

' _Stupefy_ '

* * *

"Severus," Minerva called.

Snape looked past his students to the Deputy Headmistress. She looked grim. Another attack then. It was to be expected with Dumbledore gone. Severus felt angry that Albus had given in so easily. Just left, with a few words about asking for help.

That wouldn't be enough to fight off the Dark Lord. Help couldn't come, only more death. The school wouldn't open again unless the book was found and the Heir of Slytherin caught. Parents wouldn't send their children back and Severus wouldn't blame them. A school should be safe, and if Penelope Clearwater was anything to go by, the school wasn't safe anymore.

"Dismissed," he snarled at the third years, frustrated that the pretense of normalcy was being maintained; with exams, homework, and regular classes. As soon as the Clearwater girl had been killed the whole school should have been evacuated.

"Who is it now, Minerva?" Snape asked softly. He mentally ran through a list of all the muggle-born students. Colin Creevy, the annoying first year. Kevin Entwhistle in the second year. Sometimes Snape wished he paid attention to these things.

"It's Harriet," Minerva said hoarsely.

"What?"

"You should come with me, Severus. Maybe you'll make something more of it. Miss. Potter and Miss. Weasley haven't been seen since breakfast. We can't account for anyone else."

He followed Minerva numbly through the corridors to the second floor. There, written in blood again right under the first message was a new one.

 _'One's skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever. One's soul will be used for the glory of the Dark'_

"Send out a message to the students," Snape said. "Get them in their dorms and call a staff meeting."

She did.

They made their way to the staff room, and Severus pondered what to do. Was there any way to get to Harriet? Was she still in the Chamber? Or had she already been whisked away to Voldemort?

They arrived in the staff room and Severus slumped in a seat. There had to be some way to puzzle this out. Another student couldn't die. Harriet couldn't be used to raise the Dark Lord. He had to stop it.

Lily would never forgive him if he let her child suffer like this. Or die. What if Harriet died? Would he ever forgive himself?

Never.

Rage filled him. He should have taken Harriet and left. Run away as soon as he knew that some part of Voldemort haunted the school. Of all the irresponsible foolhardy things. He should have risked Azkaban and rummaged through every student's things until he found that bloody book.

He hadn't. He had been a coward and a fool instead.

"It has happened," Minerva told the silent staffroom. "Two students have been taken by the monster. Right into the Chamber itself."

Filius let out a squeal. Pomona clapped her hands over her mouth. He gripped the chair.

"The Heir of Slytherin," said Minerva, "left another message. Right underneath the first one. _'One's skeleton will lie in the Chamber forever. One's soul will be used for the glory of the Dark.'"_

Filius burst into tears.

"Who is it?" asked Hooch, who had sunk weak-kneed into a chair. "Which students."

"Ginny Weasley," said Minerva. She paused, looking over at Severus.

"And Harriet," he finished for her.

"We shall have to send all the students home tomorrow," said Minerva. Too bloody right. "This is the end of Hogwarts. Dumbledore always said…"

The staffroom door banged open again. For one wild moment, Severus was sure it would be Dumbledore, come to save his apprentice from the Dark. But it was Lockhart, and he was beaming.

"So sorry- dozed off- what have I missed?"

He didn't seem to notice that everyone in the room was looking at him with hatred. Severus liked his coworkers. They were bright and efficient collaborators. Some were quite odd, like Sybill- and granted there was a reason she was here at Hogwarts- but mostly Hogwarts staff lived up to the reputation of the school.

This man- there were few people Severus hated more. From his glossy hair to his large smile, everything about him was fake. He was a liar. A fraud, Snape was certain. A writer of fiction that he passed off as his own. His incompetence may have set all these students back in their education. It would take a truly competent professor next year… only there would be no next year.

He stood. "Just the man," he said. "The very man. My ward has been snatched by the monster, Lockhart. Taken into the Chamber of Secrets itself. Your moment has come at last."

Lockhart blanched.

"That's right, Gilderoy," chipped in Pomona. "Weren't you saying just last night that you've known all along where the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets is?"

"I- well, I-" sputtered Lockhart.

"Yes, didn't you tell me you were sure you knew what was inside it?" piped up Filius (who knew full well it was probably a Basilisk).

"D-did I? I don't recall-"

"I certainly remember you saying you were sorry you hadn't had a crack at the monster before Hagrid was arrested," Severus added. "Didn't you say that the whole affair had been bungled, and that you should have been given a free rein from the first?"

Lockhart looked around at them all.

"I- I really never- you may have misunderstood-"

"We'll leave it you, then, Gilderoy," said Minerva. "Tonight will be an excellent time to do it. We'll make sure everyone's out of your way. You'll be able to tackle the monster all by yourself. A free rein at last."

Lockhart gazed desperately around him, but nobody came to the rescue. He didn't look remotely handsome anymore, Snape thought smugly. His lip was trembling, and in the absence of his usually toothy grin, he looked weak-chinned and feeble.

"Very well," he said. "I'll- I'll be in my office, getting- getting ready."

And he left the room.

"Right," said Minvera, whose nostrils were flared. "That's got him out from under our feet. The Heads of House should go and inform their students what has happened…" she paused and looked at Snape.

"I can go for Severus," Septima volunteered. Snape nodded, steely-jawed.

"Tell them the Hogwarts Express will take them home first thing tomorrow. Will the rest of you please make sure no students have been left outside their dormitories."

The teachers rose and left, one by one.

Except for Snape.

Had he ever felt more powerless? Even when he had given up Lily's location to the Dark Lord he had had hope. Dumbledore had been there, protecting her. Now there was no hope. A student dead.

Harriet… annoying, fearless, foolish Harriet. So brave, bright, and bold.

Gone.

He punched the wardrobe in the corner.

He jumped back in surprise when the wardrobe let out three shrieks. Snape threw open the doors to find none other than Ron Weasley, Neville Longbottom, and Draco Malfoy crouched inside.

"And what do you think you're doing here," he hissed at them.

The boys scrambled out. The Weasley boy was the first to speak. "My sister and my best mate are down in that Chamber! We have to do something."

"And what do you propose we do, Weasley?" Severus snarled. "Harriet can't keep her mouth shut, so I'm sure you three know that we don't have the book, don't know where the Chamber is, and don't have a way to control a bloody Basilisk."

"Harri," Longbottom squeaked. "She wanted to ask Moaning Myrtle how she died."

"Why would Harriet need to…" and Snape realized something he should have put together much sooner. Myrtle Warren had died in 1943 in the second-floor girls' bathroom.

Bugger, Fuck. and all the rest.

He turned on his heel and ran.

"Come on then, Malfoy. Don't be a coward now." he heard Weasley say as three sets of footsteps followed him.

When he entered the bathroom he found Moaning Myrtle sitting on the tank on the end toilet.

"Oh," she said, seeing Snape. "There hasn't been a teacher in here in ages."

"Are you Myrtle Warren," Snape asked breathlessly, winded from the run.

Myrtle looked surprised, "Where did you hear that?" she asked with suspicion.

"Just a guess, Miss. Warren." Snape said. The three boys finally caught up and entered the bathroom.

"What do you want?" Myrtle asked with ghostly tears in her eyes. "To make fun of me?"

"To ask you how you died," said Snape.

Myrtle's whole aspect changed at once. She looked as though she had never been asked such a flattering question.

"Ooooh, it was dreadful," she said with relish. "It happened right in here. I died in this very stall. I remember it so well. I'd hidden because Olive Hornby was teasing me about my glasses. The door was locked, and I was crying, and then I heard somebody come in. They said something funny. A different language, I think it must have been. Anyway, what really got me was that it was a _boy_ speaking. So I unlocked the door, to tell him to go and use his own toilet, and then-" Myrtle swelled importantly, her face shining. "I _died."_

"How?" Snape snapped. They didn't have time for this.

"No idea," said Myrtle in hushed tones. "I just remember seeing a pair of great, big, yellow eyes. My whole body sort of seized up, and then I was floating away…" She looked dreamily at Snape. "And then I came back again. I was determined to haunt Olive Hornby, you see. Oh, she was sorry she'd ever laughed at my glasses."

"Where did you see the eyes, Miss. Warren," Snape asked.

"Somewhere there," said Myrtle, pointing vaguely toward the sink in front of her toilet.

The three boys ran over to the sink. They examined it so closely that Snape couldn't get in edgewise. He was close to cursing them when Draco called out, "HERE!"

Snape leaned down to look. Scratched on the side of one of the copper taps was a tiny snake.

"That tap's never worked," said Myrtle brightly as Draco tried to turn it."

The entrance, plain as day. Except there was no Parselmouth to open the Chamber. No way to get inside and get to Harriet. Could he blast the sink away? He cast a quick spell to reveal any wards. Several, that would take hours to unravel. He would be too late.

A thought occurred, one that probably wouldn't work but was worth a shot.

"You three are going back to your Common Rooms."

"But it's just gotten good," said Weasley. "We can help you."

Malfoy and Longbottom looked like they would much rather go back to their Common Rooms then go and face a Basilisk. At least they had some common sense.

"You are children. Ultimately, the most good you can do is to go back to your Common Room and stay out of harm's way."

Ron Weasley's lip trembled. He looked away from Snape and swallowed.

"Are you going to try and save Harri and Ginny?" Longbottom asked.

"Slytherin's don't try," Draco said. "We win."

If he wasn't trying to get the students out of the bathroom he would have hit the Malfoy scion over the head.

He was going to die like a Gryffidnor. Lily must be laughing at him from beyond the Veil.

He passed Weasley and Longbottom off to Minverva.

"The entrance is in the second floor girl's bathroom," he told her.

"I'm coming," she said firmly.

"No," he said. "The students need you. If this should go wrong, who knows what fresh hell will occur. I'll need your help if my first plan to get in doesn't work. There are some tricky wards around the entrance."

He then dropped Draco Malfoy off at the Slytherin common room. "If I should fail," he told Malfoy, "do the right thing. Don't let your father get away with murdering four more people."

The Malfoy heir blanched.

"Granted, if I fail the Dark Lord will return," he said. "So maybe don't do the right thing. Avoid your Aunt"

A quick stop at his office for a hissing three headed snake and he was back in the bathroom. His whole venture had taken an hour, and that was time he couldn't get back. It was time Harriet didn't have.

"I'm not sure what you can understand," he told the snake. "Harriet seems to think you understand more English then you let on."

He held the Runespoor up to the snake etching. "She's down there with your Mother of Serpents. We need to get her out."

The snake fixed all three heads on him, all six eyes staring without blinking.

"Tell it to open," he commanded. The head with the cone on it- and the fangs- looked annoyed. But the middle head looked at the head on the left, which bobbed in what could only be agreement.

The left head hissed at the tap.

A once the tap glowed with a brilliant white light and began to spin. Next second, the sink began to move; the sink, in fact, sank right out of sight, leaving a large pipe exposed, a pipe wide enough for a man to slide down.

Snape wrapped the Runespoor more securely around his wrist. "Well, Snake, let's go get our girl."

He lowered himself slowly into the pipe, then let go.


	34. Memoriae: Gaurdian

Harri was cold.

It was the first sensation to make the mirky trip back to consciousness. The second was that she was lying on a hard and wet stone floor. Her head ached like she had hit it on something, and when she tried to blink open her eyes, it throbbed in protest. She let out a groan.

"Ah, the princess awakens," said a familiar voice.

Harri wanted to bolt upright and get eyes on Tom Riddle at once. That wasn't an option. She felt sluggish and was certain that if she sat up too quickly she would lose her breakfast.

Instead, Harri stayed quiet and tried to focus on her breathing until she was certain she could sit up without being sick. When she finally managed to open her eyes to look around, Harri wished that she had stayed passed out.

She was in a very long dimly lit chamber. Towering stone pillars entwined with carved serpents rose to support a ceiling lost in darkness, casting long black shadows through the odd greenish gloom that filled the place. She was sitting at a statue's foot, a statue that was as tall as the Chamber itself.

So, this was it. The famed Chamber of Secrets. Harri tried to spot Tom Riddle through the gloom. Why would he bring her to a memory of the Chamber? Only as she looked…

Laying face down under the other foot was a small, black-robed figure with flaming-red hair.

It wasn't a memory.

"Ginny!" Harri murmured, crawling closer to the girl.

Ginny didn't move. Harri couldn't tell if she was breathing. "Ginny- don't be dead- please don't be dead-" she pleaded, grabbing Ginny's shoulders, and turned her over. Her face was white as marble and as cold, yet her eyes were closed, so she wasn't Petrified. But then she must be-

"Ginny, please wake up," Harri cried desperately, shaking her. Ginny's head lolled hopelessly from side to side.

"She won't wake," said the soft voice of Tom Riddle.

Harri sprung up and rounded on him, but instantly regretted it. She had to steady herself on the statue of Salazar Slytherin to stop herself from falling.

"You," Harri hissed. "What did you do to her?"

"Well, that's an interesting question," said the young Voldemort pleasantly. "I"m sure you can remember how tired you were after you wrote to me, Harriet dear. I took a little magic, a small price to pay. And you see, poor Ginny has been talking to me all year."

"You've drained her magical core?" Harri asked, shocked.

"You asked if I was a magical reservoir not too long ago, and the truth is much closer to a magical parasite," he admitted nonchalantly. "Little Ginny will die, and I will live. Then you and I will make our way to Albania to meet an old friend."

"Take me instead," Harri insisted. "Use my magic, leave Ginny alone!"

"How noble," he laughed. "And while admit that if I had used your magic this whole process would have gone much faster, it would have spoiled the game before it has even begun. Surely you know Harriet, I've no desire to kill you."

"It was so boring," he went on. "Having to listen to the silly little troubles of an eleven-year-old girl. But I was patient. I wrote back. All for you, Harriet." He laughed a high, cold laugh that didn't suit his handsome face. It made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.

"Why even make her open the Chamber if you were going to kill her in the end?" Harri asked, thinking of poor dead Penelope Clearwater, Hermione petrified, and all the fear that had suffocated the school.

"The magical core of an eleven-year-old girl isn't enough," he said. "Between her core and your lovely magic, I got quite strong. But I needed something more to push me all the way out of the book. A couple of sacrifices, if you will."

Was there a way to stop this and save Ginny? "Is there anything?" Harri asked desperately. "Anything all. Please, Tom. Anything."

He laughed again, "There you go again Harri, who knew it would be so easy with you? I'll have to keep this in mind. Threaten a few innocents and you'll give up anything to save them."

He finally stepped forward and grabbed her silver covered wrist. "Anything, Harriet? Anything at all?"

She felt like she making a deal with the devil, but she nodded her head in agreement.

"Then kiss me, Harriet, show me that you mean it."

She didn't hesitate. Harriet wasn't a Gryffidnor for nothing. She smashed her lips against Tom Riddle's so hard that it hurt. It was more of a head butt then a kiss and he reeled back, unimpressed.

He rubbed his lips, looking amused even as a trickle of… was that ink?... traveled down his chin.

"Enthusiastic," he said smoothly. "But let me show you properly."

He leaned down and Harri could feel his breath. He was so warm. So alive. It was hateful, knowing that the warmth was stolen from Ginny. Gently, he cupped his hand around her cheek and tilted her head up to look directly at him. His eyes were so dark that they looked black in the green chamber light.

He closed the miniscule gap between them and pressed his lips, soft and dry, upon her own. If the kiss on her forehead had caused an electric jolt of magic to beam through her, an actual kiss was like being hit with lightning.

She pulled back gasping. A soft chuckle, and then he pressed in again. It was too much. Far too much. She was drowning in him, and it was like she wouldn't be able to think straight ever again if she let him keep kissing her.

Harri pushed him back firmly.

"You said you'd let Ginny go."

"No, I said you should prove that you'd do anything. Ginny Weasley's life is mine, it won't be long now. Then you and I will be on our way."

Anger billowed up inside of her, "We're not just getting out of the castle. Do you think you'll be able to just walk out the front door?"

"No," he said blase as could be. "I'm in possession of a rather impressive Basilisk. You'll find no one would be able to stop us even if they wanted to."

"I'll have to disagree, Riddle," same the most welcome voice in the world. It was Snape, the Runespoor wrapped around his wrist hissing excitedly.

"Furry!" the middle head exclaimed happily.

"Oh ho," Riddle laughed merrily. "If it isn't the intrepid guardian. The fear of first years everywhere. Why ever did you come, Severus Snape?"

"I've come to collect Harriet and Ginny Weasley. You'll release them to me now," said Snape firmly. Looking for all the world like he wasn't standing in the Chamber of Secrets confronting Lord Voldemort.

"I think not," Riddle snapped. "Who are you to challenge me? Your charge is coming with me to serve her purpose to the Dark Lord. You were my servant before, Severus Snape. You heed the call of the dark, and you will not stand in my way now."

"I am no one's servant," Snape said, drawing his wand. He looked furious. "I serve no master anymore."

"I am the greatest sorcerer in the world," said Tom Riddle, switching his grip on Harriet to hold her like a human shield. "You think you can beat me?" He had drawn a wand, and Harri recognized it has her own.

"You're not," Snape said, his quiet voice full of hatred.

"Not what?" snapped Riddle.

"Not the greatest sorcerer int he world," said Snape, breathing fast. "The greatest wizard in the world is Albus Dumbledore. The Lord of Light, the man you feared. Even at your full strength, you never tried to take Hogwarts. He frightens you even now, the mean spirit that hides in the forests of Albania."

Riddle's grip on Harri tightened.

"Dumbledore's been driven out of the castle by the mere memory of me!" he hissed.

"He's not as gone as you might think!" Harri retorted, trying to elbow him and get away.

Riddle seemed about to say something when-

Music was coming from somewhere. Riddle glanced around, still keeping his wand trained on Snape. The music was growing louder. It was eerie, spine-tingling, unearthly; it lifted the hair on Harri's scalp and made her heart feel as though it was swelling to twice its normal size. Then, as the music reached such a pitch that Harri felt it vibrating inside her own ribs, flames erupted at the top of the nearest pillar.

A crimson bird the size of a swan had appeared, piping its weird music to the vaulted ceiling. It had a glittering golden tail as long as a peacock's and gleaming golden talons, which were gripping a ragged bundle.

A second later, the bird was flying straight at Snape. It dropped the ragged thing it was carrying at his feet, then landed heavily on his shoulder. As it folded its great wings, Harri could see it had a long, sharp golden beak and beady black eyes.

The bird stopped singing. It sat still on Snape's shoulder, gazing steadily at Harri and Riddle.

"That's a phoenix…" said Riddle, staring shrewdly back at it.

"Fawkes," Harri breathed. Snape looked bewildered.

"And that-" said Riddle, now eyeing the ragged thing that Fawkes had dropped, "that's the old school Sorting Hat-"

So it was. Patched, frayed, and dirty, the hat lay motionless at Snape's feet. Riddle began to laugh. He laughed so hard that the dark Chamber rang with it, as though ten Riddles were laughing at once. His grip felt like it would bruise her neck, but as he met Snape's gaze again he sounded eerily calm.

"This is what Dumbledore sends his defender! A songbird and an old hat! Do you feel brave, Severus Snape? Do you feel you can win now?"

Snape didn't answer. His eyes were hard and his mouth set in a grim line. He couldn't cast against Riddle until Harri got away. Her struggling got her nothing more than an arm around her throat and the feeling that she couldn't breathe.

"To business, " said Riddle, "Since you say you no longer serve the dark, let the dark be done with you. Let's match the powers of Lord Voldemort, Heir of Salazar Slytherin and Dark Lord, against you- a half-blood fool with the best weapons Dumbledore can give you."

Harri heard the Runespoor hiss from around Snape's wrist, "They're both speakers, we can't do much of anything." "We have to help," "They're both-" "It's against nature" "What do you even expect us to do?"

"Speak to me, Slytherin, greatest of the Hogwarts Four." Riddle hissed.

"The mother!" Harri heard the Runespoor say. "The mother is coming,"

Harri could hear from behind her that stone was moving. Something was slithering out.

Fawkes took flight once more, and Snape was shakily stepping forward with his wand still in his hand.

"Don't kill him!" Harri hissed, at Riddle or the snake she did not know.

"A second speaker?" came the hiss of the Basilisk.

"She is the younger," Riddle hissed coldly. "Kill this man, rip him, tear him!"

The basilisk was moving toward them, and Harri got her first look at it through half-closed eyes. It was enormous, bright green, and thick as an oak trunk. Harri could see that Snape's eyes were shut tight. He cast some sort of shield charm, and began to run blindly sideways, his hands outstretched, feeling his way- Riddle was laughing again.

"Did you know," Riddle whispered in her ears, "That as a speaker you need not fear the gaze of the Basilisk? Keep your eyes open, Harriet. Watch how those who fight Lord Voldemort fall."

"I won't forgive you this," Harri told. "If you kill him and Ginny Weasley, I'll spend my whole life hating you. I'll find a way to kill you myself."

"I'd like to see that," he sounded smug and pleased, as if the idea of Harri trying to kill him was appealing.

Snape skidded. The serpent was barely feet from him. It reared up, letting out a loud explosive sound as it hissed, and then Fawkes dived and hit Snape out of the way so hard that the man hit the wall of the chamber.

Then Fawkes soared towards the Basilisk, the snake let out a mighty hiss. Would Fawkes die if he made eye contact with the snake? The phoenix soared around the snake's head, and the basilisk was snapping furiously at him with fangs long and thin as sabers.

Fawkes dived. His long golden beak sank out of sight and a sudden shower of dark blood spattered the floor. The snake's tail thrashed, narrowly missing Snape, and Fawkes dived again. Another shower of blood.

Harri gasped in surprise as she realized that both the snake's large bulbous yellow eyes had been punctured by the Phoenix; blood was streaming to the floor, and the snake was spitting in agony.

Riddle gripped Harri so tightly she thought she might choke. "NO!" he screamed out in an explosive hiss. "LEAVE THE BIRD! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE MAN IS BEHIND YOU! YOU CAN STILL SMELL HIM! KILL HIM"

"RUN!" Harri screamed. "He's telling the snake to get you!"

Snape looked like he didn't know what to do. He cast a quick spell and red light flashed from his wand, hitting the snake, but didn't penetrate. The scales were magically resistant. What to do? Could he conjure a roster and make it crow?

The snake's tail whipped across the floor again. Snape ducked. Something soft hit just above his head. The basilisk had swept the Sorting Hat over to Snape. Snape seized it. What did one do with a hat but wear it?

"Put it on!" Harri called. Maybe the hat knew a way to kill a basilisk?

Snape jammed it on quickly, dodging as the snake's tail hit over him again. Snape let out a harsh yelp, and Harri feared the worst. Had the snake's tail hit him?

"KILL THE MAN! LEAVE THE BIRD! THE MAN IS BEHIND YOU! SNIFF! SMELL HIM!" Riddle was so urgent that he wasn't speaking in a hiss at all but in English.

Snape was on his feet, ready. Something silver... was that a sword? was in his hands. The basilisk's head was falling, it's body coiling around, hitting pillars as it twisted to face him. The snake's mighty maw was stretching wide, wide enough to swallow him whole, and Harri let out a fearful scream as Snape practically disappeared into its mouth.

The basilisk keeled over sideways and fell, twitching, to the floor.

Snape slid down the wall, one of the snake's fangs in his arm.

"No," Harri whispered. She pulled against Riddle, and this time he let her go. She rushed past the dead snake to Snape. She gripped the fang that was spreading poison through his body and wrenched it out. But she knew it was too late. His face was in agony.

Everything was growing foggy; she was crying. Snape's hand was on her face.

"Harri…" he said, his voice weak. "Run… Harri… Live"

"I'm not leaving you," Harri chocked through her tears. "You can't leave me. You have to stay. Please! You're all I've got!"

A patch of scarlet swam past Harri's blurred vision. "Fawkes," said Harri thickly.

"Take her," Snape told the Pheonix. But Fawkes didn't move toward Harri. Instead, it laid its beautiful head on the spot where the serpent's fang had pierced Snape's arm. The Runespoor, which had miraculously survived all this, slithered to Harri. The right head even hissed sadly.

"You're dead Severus Snape," said Riddle's voice from behind Harri. "Dead. Even Dumbledore's bird knows it. Do you see what he's doing? He's crying."

Hope bloomed in Harri's breast. Pheonix tears.

The Runespoor reared back and flung itself at Riddle. Fangs bared in anger, ready to attack.

'Diffindo ' Riddle snarled, and a jet of yellow light hit the snake. It fell dead to the floor in two bleeding halves.

She gripped the basilisk fang in her hand tightly, seeing red from anger. She turned and swung at Riddle. He caught her wrist, gripping it so hard that her hand opened and she dropped the fang.

"I think not," he snapped. Snape groaned.

"Pheonix Tears," he whispered to himself, looking at Snape in sudden understanding. He lifted his wand.

"Please," Harri pleaded, tears in her eyes. "Please don't hurt him. Let Ginny go. Please!"

He kept his wand raised, and Harri stifled a scream. He didn't cast to kill, it was a simple 'Stupefy'. The spell hit Snape directly in the chest. The nearly dead man was unconscious, but he was alive.

"Please," she said again.

"You must swear on your magic that you won't make a fuss. You'll come with me without complaint. You won't run away. You'll stay with me until I release you. If you do that, I will let Ginny Weasley live."

"I swear it," Harri said quickly. She felt the snap of magic between them of a promise made.

"Go get the diary," he said. "Cut your hand and smear your blood on the pages. That will be enough magic to finish it. Ginny Weasley will live."

"Thank you," Harri breathed. He let her go, and she hurried over to the diary. She had no knife or means to cut her palm and looked around desperately. There was a flutter of wings, and Fawkes was beside her. He looked up at her with his dark black eyes and she wondered if he was judging her decision.

"Ginny has to live," she told the bird. It looked like Fawkes nodded to her, then he struck forward with his sharp beak and sliced open Harri's palm. She snatched the diary up and smeared her blood on the front page. She felt like something was pulling at her, a strange sucking sensation that made her ears ring. It was a dizzying sensation. Then it was over. Ginny Weasley let out a small sigh, and her breathing returned to normal.

Tom Riddle sighed from behind her, and she felt a hand on her shoulder. "How strange," he said softly. "It's cold." Had he not felt the temperature before?

"Come, Harriet," he said, pulling her to her feet.

"Where are we going?" she asked. "The Basilisk is dead. We aren't going to be able to just walk out of the school."

He grinned sourly, "It's a good thing that you happen to have that cloak of yours with you, isn't it?"

* * *

He woke to the cold Chamber and a voice.

"P-Professor? Professor, p-please wake-up!" Snape opened his eyes, and at first, he thought it was Harriet kneeling over him. All he could see was a mass of red hair but as his vision cleared he saw that it was not Harriet. It was a sobbing Ginny Weasley. The girl was still alive.

Panic gripped him, and he sat looking wildly around. Harriet and Riddle were gone.

"Oh Professor Snape, thank goodness!" the weeping girl said. "You looked dead. I woke up and t-that thing over there," she pointed to the Basilisk, "i-is dead. I t-thought it killed you!" she stuttered out.

Snape shakily stood.

"No one was here when you woke up?" he asked the sobbing girl carefully.

"N-no," she said. "He's gone. The Diary," she held it out to him. It was covered in blood. Covered in blood and Ginny Weasley was still alive. Harriet and the Young Dark Lord were gone. It didn't take a ritual specialist to figure out what had happened.

He walked over to the basilisk, and, with a huge tug, retrieved the glittering sword from the roof of the snakes' mouth. He then picked up the dead Runespoor and looked sadly down at it. Dead. He should be dead too. Somehow he was alive and Harriet was gone. How far had they gotten? How long had he been stunned? The average stunner lasted an hour without an enervate. Did the Dark Lord cast average stunners?

"I-I tried to tell Harri- I tried to tell her at breakfast, but I couldn't - he wouldn't let me- R-Riddle made me- he t-took over- and- how-"

"Miss. Weasley," Severus asked tersely, "Are you injured anywhere?"

"N-no" she gasped. Snape cast the spell he had often cast on Harri to see the state of her magical core.

"You're very drained, Miss. Weasley. Almost to the point of no return. We need to get you to the Hospital Wing."

"I'm going to be expelled!" Ginny wept as Snape awkwardly tired to lead her out of the Chamber. "I've looked forward to coming to Hogwarts ever since B-Bill came and n-now I'll have to leave and - w-what'll Mum and Dad say?"

"That they have a very brave daughter who fought against You-Know-Who after months and months of him in her head," said Snape, who took Ginny by the shoulders. "You will not be expelled, Miss. Weasley. You are a child who was taken advantage of by the Dark. Older witches have done far worse knowingly in his name."

Miss. Weasley's lip still trembled, but she stopped weeping. Fawkes was waiting from them in the Chamber entrance. Severus urged Ginny Weasley forward; the two stepped over the motionless coils of the dead basilisk, through the echoing gloom, and back into the tunnel. Snape heard the stone doors close behind them with a soft hiss.

Harriet was in the clutches of the young Dark Lord, now fully corporeal.

He had failed.

* * *

He delivers the sobbing girl to her scared parents in the Hospital Wing, and like a rage-filled wraith, he Severus goes to the returned Headmaster.

"What is this thing?" he asks Dumbledore, giving him the Diary. He's certain that he knows, but he wants the Headmaster to confirm it.

"A Horcrux," Dumbledore replies. A Horcrux. Yes, it was so clear. The Dark Lord who didn't die. He would be strengthened now. The return of his soul fragment would make him more than a mean ghost in Albania.

"The soul piece…" Snape says slowly, "The Dark Lord had an overexaggerated effect on Harriet. Miss. Weasley was exposed for over half the year and wasn't magical exhausted once. There is something else, isn't there?"

Dumbledore nods his head, and Snape can feel his stomach all the way down to his feet.

"She's a Horcrux too, isn't she?" Severus asks. It's dread, it's horror, it's all the bad feelings in the world. It's hearing that Lily was dead and that Harriet has been kidnapped all rolled into one.

"Yes," Dumbledore confirms quietly.

"That explains why her magic is still being so difficult," Snape mutters. "She hasn't had the stabilization potion."

"No, I suppose she hasn't" Dumbledore mused. "Funny that you would think of that first, instead of how to get rid of it."

"There isn't getting rid of a Horcrux from a human host," Severus snaps. "Not without killing her."

Dumbledore looks quietly at Snape with resignation. "That was originally my plan," Albus confesses.

Severus wants to curse the man. "You were going to make her a sheep to the slaughter? Not my daughter, Albus!"

"Not anymore," says Dumbledore. "No, not anymore. She's too valuable as the Lady of Light. My plans were contingent on Harri being free of such a burden."

"She isn't a bloody pawn on your chess board. Or a queen, as you would have her now!"

"No," Dumbledore says, and Snape can feel a sharpness in the air. "She's no pawn of mine. She's a pawn of Yggdrasil. I can no more plan for Harri's future than you can. There is no removing the Horcrux except through her death or Voldemort's regret. Neither seems likely. I do not know what to do, Severus."

"We have to find her before the Horcrux uses her."

"Yes, we do." Dumbledore agrees. "I will see if Horace will take over your remaining classes for the year. Minnie can take on my duties."

"You will come?"

"I will. Though I fear... I fear that we will be too late. The Horcrux will be able to find itself easily."

Panic shoots down Snape's spine.

"He'll go after you, Albus."

"I'm sure he will," Dumbledore agrees.

"He'll want you dead so that she's the one speaking and negotiating with him. She won't even be called for a few years yet. He'll be in a stronger position with you gone."

"I don't intend to die, Severus."

"That's the thing about death, isn't it?" Snape said, "It's not usually intentional."

* * *

A man in a cell gets a copy of the Daily Prophet from Cornelius Fudge.

Fudge is early this year, but apparently there are whispers of the Dark Lord growing stronger. Fudge wants to be sure the prison is secure. They talk loudly and freely, those Ministry witches and wizards. Anyone can hear if they bother to listen. He wonders how many inmates have the ability to listen anymore; each so lost in their own misery.

He sees the giant Rubeus Hagrid come lumbering out of the prison, cold and pale as the rest of the inmates in Azkaban. Why was he here?

He looks down at the paper, thinking of the crossword. The front page gives him pause.

 **Hero Professor Rescues Student**

 **Heir of Slytherin at Large, Girl-Who-Lived Missing**

This reporter is pleased to report that Professor Severus Snape was able to slay the Basilisk that was terrorizing Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Over the last several months the school has been stalked by the large snake; resulting in one student death (Penelope Clearwater, 16), and two students, one cat, and one ghost being petrified (successfully revived). These attacks are reminiscent of the last time the Chamber was opened in 1942-43 which also resulted in the death of a student (Myrtle Warren, 13).

Yesterday morning, Hogwarts woke to the chilling news that two students had been taken into the Chamber itself. The first, Ginny Weasley, is the daughter of Arthur Weasley with the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Department. The second, Harriet Potter, the Girl-Who-Lived.

Professor Severus Snape, the guardian of Harriet Potter, found and entered the Chamber. He was able to slay the Basilisk and retrieve Ginny Weasley, but the unknown Heir-of-Slytherin was able to escape with the Girl-Who-Lived. Both are currently at large.

While it is a tragedy that Harriet Potter has been taken, Lord Albus Dumbledore has assured Lucius Malfoy (former Chairmen of the Hogwarts Board of Governors) and Minister Cornelius Fudge that Harriet Potter is still alive. According to Mr. Lucius Malfoy, when he tried to further question Lord Dumbledore, Dumbledore cited Section 4 of the Magical Powers Act that gives Privilege to a Lord or Lady of Magic in regard to dealings between Dark and Light. This clause is only relevant if Lord Dumbledore is acting in his capacity as Lord of Light. If that is the case, the disappearance of Harriet Potter can only mean the involvement of the Dark Lord. Is it He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? Or a new Dark Lord at last.

If you have any information regarding the whereabouts of Harriet Potter please contact the Auror Department at the Ministry.

By the time Fudge walks past Sirius Black's cell again, it's empty.


	35. Captivus: Harri Hunting

**Captivus**

 **The forest was dark and Harri was tired. She hadn't been able to sleep well for weeks. The constant movement of camp, of Tom leaving for long stretches at a time, and the general disquiet of the forest had left her perpetually frightened.**

 **There was a rustle in the treeline and Harri's heart began to raced with fear. Was it Tom come back? Had the spirit of Lord Voldemort come to kill her? Some sort of animal? She gripped her wand and tried to think of a spell to defend herself with.**

 **A large black dog stepped out of the darkness.**

* * *

They were at the Ministry in Tirana to meet one of Albus' contacts- again.

For a Dark Lord who was often said to be in Albania, no one seemed to know where exactly in Albania he was. It had been a long three weeks.

Leaving England had taken more time than Snape cared to admit. Albus thought it best to request a freeze on all international travel before they set out anywhere. A plan he begrudgingly agreed was a good one. International Appirition was very difficult, and using side-along would be near impossible. He couldn't imagine a situation where they went to Albania without a Portkey.

Basic Portkey's were easy enough for a witch or wizard to cast, but International Portkeys were strictly regulated. It would be simple to traffic dangerous goods and animals without regulation. A request had to be placed and evaluated with the Department of Travel and Imports; it could take weeks to process.

The freeze went into place and the International Portkey requests for the next week were investigated. However, it was Arthur Weasley's department that came to the conclusion that Harriet Potter was no longer in the country. A Harriet Evans was found to be traveling with a Thomas Gaunt to Greece via Muggle airplane. The money they tendered for their flight was conjured, altering Weasley's department that something was amiss at Heathrow.

How was Harriet traveling so docilely? Had there not been a chance to run? Or was Tom Riddle threatening to kill every Muggle in his path if he had to get her back?

Severus wanted to curse Albus for waiting. Ultimately Tom Riddle and Harriet Potter arrived in Greece four days before their travel was discovered. From there Snape imagined they could manage a bus or train to Albania. The Horcrux would be able to find the main part of its soul without any trouble; it would be like a beacon flashing in the night.

Was Harriet already there in the clutches of Voldemort? There could be no doubt.

They had an emergency Portkey approved within hours of Weasley's discovery and were taken directly to the Albanian Ministry in Tirana.

The Albanian Ministry of Magic was much smaller than Englands'. It was to be expected. In Britain, there were about 50,000 witches and wizards. Albania only had about 2,000. The Albanian Ministry was just a branch of the Balkan Alliance which included: Romania, Bulgaria, Serbia, and Yugoslavia- though now the muggles were saying that Yugoslavia would be six separate countries! What a mess for the Ministry. Their combined strength equated to about 40,000 witches and wizards that were an underserved magical population if there had ever been one.

With the recent fall of the Soviet Union, Severus wondered how the Magical Education System would fare. There was a small Soviet Style school in Yugoslavia for Balkan students, The Pover (or was it now in Montenegro?). It was able to take on about five hundred students. The other five hundred had been split between Durmstrang in Germany and Koldovstoretz in the Soviet- no that wasn't right… Russian Federation.

Poland's school, Czaryszkola, had some eight hundred national students with various other Iron Curtain children filtered in from Hungary, Czechoslovakia- no that wasn't right either- Slokavia and the Czech Republic. Not to mention some 150,000 students dealing with the current upheaval at Koldovstoretz and the other former Soviet Union schools. Would the historic Baltic Magija Mokykla be reinstated? The Marya Institue in Ukraine return to being a local school? They had been flooded with ethnic Russian and Central Asian Students, with locals sent to the Sykirmekter in Kyrgyzstan.

The educator in him worried greatly for these students. What kind of education had they received over the last few years of political upheaval? Had the Muggle problems affected the Magical? The Ministry claimed that it didn't- but they had been known to exaggerate and lie. The Russian Dark Lord, The Moroz, was not known for transparency with his European neighbor. The Kupala, the Lady Light; had she even been heard from in the last decade? Why would Voldemort decide to hide here of all places? Muggle Wars were every which way and those Soviet types had always made Severus' skin crawl.

Yggdrasil's roots grew, certainly, but they were at the fringes of her border. Out beyond were the wilds of old Rus, it was the rushing of the rivers that gave power there, and it was a power that was not for Voldemort or Dumbledore to touch.

Things moved much slower than Severus liked in Albania. The Ministry was as helpful as they could manage, but they were short staffed and overworked. They had a general idea of where Voldemort might be hiding but had not further investigated.

"Dark Spirits should stay where they belong, in the Dark," one wizard had told them firmly.

"You do no good meddling with that kind of magic," said a witch.

"If the girl is gone, she is gone," one official had shrugged when Dumbledore tried for a fourth time to get the Ministry to approve travel in the country. Why couldn't they just say Bugger, and go out unsanctioned? Dumbledore was reluctant to force the issue.

"Now Severus, we can't cause an international incident. They're likely to turn back to the Russian Federation if we don't act appropriately. The magic here is wild, a mixture of the two territories. The International Community can't afford to blast through doors and alienate a country so… imbalanced."

"People might die if we don't put a stop to this" Severus had hissed as the second week had drawn to a close. They had been granted permission to travel south to look through several unplottable forests, but it was a specific forest to the northeast of the country that was the most promising. There had been several disappearances over the last decade.

"People might die if we lose the Balkan Alliance. Civil Unrest or a return to Old Rus could result in thousands of lives lost. The Magi Union of Europe will not stand for the loss of the Balkans again. It would mean war, Severus."

Bloody Supreme Mugwump. If there was one piece of advice he was going to give Harriet, it was to avoid any International titles. They made for a Lord of Light too cautious and unwilling to act. All of this could be avoided if Albus just threw his weight around more. Used his powers to make them listen…

That would make him more like the Dark Lord, Snape thought ruefully. Well, one thing he could say for the Dark Lord was that he got things done. Buerocracy was cut to ribbons in favor of efficiency.

If he returned maybe… but that was no good either. Lily, he reminded himself. Lily. The man killed Lily. It didn't matter that he was _doing_ something as the Dark Lord, opposite of Albus' policy of doing very little. It didn't matter that the Dark Lord's call for _change_ was overdue and that the bloated Ministry needed to be dealt with.

The Dark Lord had murdered Lily.

It was odd, he hadn't had a positive thought about the Dark Lord's policies in years… that was off.

The Dark Lord must be stronger. Or maybe Severus was closer and could feel that call on his magic. He felt repulsed by himself. He had claimed in the Chamber that he had no master, but it seemed that the pull of the Dark Lord's magic was still there.

Did that mean that Harri had already been used? He pulled up his sleeve to look at the Dark Mark. It wasn't the black it had been a decade ago. After the Dark Lord's fall, it had faded to look like a white scar. It didn't look like a scar anymore- it was a soft grey. Not returned, but gaining power.

Harriet… where was she? And when would this bureaucratic nonsense be over so that they could properly search for her?

* * *

In another life, Sirius Black would have crowed to his friends that he was the only known escaped convict from Azkaban. In a different world, he wouldn't have been in Azkaban to begin with, but he could image Jame's hazel eyes smirking in mischief at Sirius' achievement.

"The truest Marauder of them all," he would have said, thumping Sirius on the back.

James was dead. Lily was dead. Peter was a traitor. And he was innocent. It was a truth that could never be taken away from him by the rattling pull of the Dementors. Peter betrayed them. Peter was the one in league with the Dark Lord.

It had been known by many fellow inmates that it was Peter Pettigrew, not Sirus Black, who had been the one who had betrayed the Potters. They wanted Peter dead just as much as Sirius did, certain that Peter had led the Dark Lord into a trap that had lead to his downfall by little Harriet.

His pup.

The thing the dementors couldn't take were the miserable thoughts, and nothing made him more miserable than thinking of Harriet. She was all alone in the world. She wouldn't go to Remus, so that only left Petunia. Which meant that his little pup had grown up with the worst sort of Muggles.

He didn't know much about Lily's sister, but he did know that James had gotten into a fist fight with Vernon Dursley at the Evans' funeral. The man had called Lily a whore.

That's what he had always thought, but now he knew that it had been Snape to raise Harriet. Somehow a known Death Eater had gotten his hands on little Harriet. Snivellus. If he had thought a childhood with the Dursleys was bad, how much worse would a childhood with Snape be? Sure, he and Lily had been friends, but Snape hated James.

Sirius could picture with perfect clarity Harriet's small toddler face… all of fifteen months old with hazel eyes and Jame's rueful smile as she toddled along, grasping onto Pa'foo's fur.

Had she been treated to the same sorts of antics that he and James had inflicted on Snape at school? Was the girl regularly spelled upside down if she displeased him? Were her punishments to chop for endless hours in a potion's lab? Or were they more sinister? Who knew that revenge Severus Snape could inflict upon Harriet.

Snape had gone after her according to the paper… that was a promising thought. Snape wouldn't go after Harriet by himself into the Chamber of Secrets unless he cared for her at least a little. Severus Snape slaying a Basilisk, who would have thought.

But that wasn't the issue at hand. Harriet was missing now. Kidnapped by the Heir of Slytherin, whoever that was. And Sirius bet he was one of the few people in the world who could find her. He had a plan.

A four-step plan to be exact- and a Marauder with a plan would never fail.

 **Step 1- Go to Gringotts**

If anyone noticed the black dog walking through Gringotts they didn't show it. Sirius had a letter in his mouth to give to a goblin. It would explain that he was Sirius Black and needed a private meeting with the Black Account manager.

Goblins didn't care about silly things like convicted criminals needing to make bank withdrawals. Or he could rely on the fact that the Black fortune had been slowly growing to a gargantuan size under Goblin Protection since the fall of Rome.

Either way, he was willing to bet the Goblin wouldn't be calling the Ministry.

Sure enough, once he got a Goblin to reluctantly take the letter, he was shown to a back room where he could transform.

 **Step 2- Get into Black Family Vault and get a wand**

"Hello, Roc," Sirius said to the aged goblin who greeted him in the anti-chamber after a quarter of an hour.

"Mmmh, Young Mr. Black. We had heard that you were about," Roc replied.

"Had you? I thought I'd made good time from the Black Sea!"

The Goblin glared.

"Ah, um- yes. Well, I received word that my mother passed on while I was away," Sirius said.

"Yes… she was so pleased with you, you know. She had you written out of the will when your father passed in '79, but what with your incarceration, she was quite insistent that you had returned to the fold."

Sirius clenched his fists. "Yes, well my mother thought a great many things." Roc appraised him with a hard-edged look. He had served as Investment Manager to the Black family for five generations.

"To the ritual then?" the goblin asked with an evil grin. Sirius supposed this was the part that never got old for the Roc the Ruthless.

"Yes," he said, hoping that he had enough blood in his emaciated body to manage the Black Family Inheritance Rites.

 **Step 3- Enact the super special secret Godfather ritual**

Lily had been surprised to learn that Godfather had more meaning in the Magical World than the Muggle one. Most Wizards and Witches weren't Anglican, so Sirius had suppressed a jeer when Lily though that so many Wizards took part in the practice for religious reasons.

"Don't be daft, Lily," he had scoffed instead. Her emerald green eyes had narrowed into a glare.

"Why would you do it then, if it's not religious?"

"For the protection," James had supplied hastily. He was used to Lily and Sirius bickering.

"Protection? Good Lord, is this another one of those exaggerated Wizarding rituals? My hand still hasn't healed from that ritual knife we used at our wedding, James."

"Yes, it's another one of those rituals. But this one really is a good one Lils. A Godfather, or Godmother for that matter, exchanges blood with the child. They swear to protect that child if they ever hear of harm coming to them before their age of majority. It's a safeguard."

"Doesn't that seem overblown? And what does harm even mean? If Harriet falls down a step is Sirius going to be honor bound to blow up the staircase?"

"Now who is overblowing it!" Sirius had laughed. "No, it's only for the big stuff. Like kidnapping for a ransom or something. Used to happen all the time. You have a Godparent to run after the kid and act as a non-paternal mediator. Or someone to blast in doors and take names. Whichever one is more appropriate."

"Is this a bit archaic?" Lily had asked nervously.

"Well it isn't exactly common," Sirius had explained. "But with a Dark Lord running around like this, don't you think it's for best? Shouldn't someone be able to find her no matter what?"

"Yes, I suppose so," Lily had said, looking down at her squirming daughter. "I just don't like to think-"

"I know, Lily," James had said, laying a hand on his wife's shoulder. "But it will turn out alright, you'll see."

Sirus was down in the Black Family Storage Vault. Now armed with a wand, he unfurled a map of Europe to see where Harriet had gotten off to. Quite a few changes, he noted looking at the updated countires of Eastern Europe.

He found the ceremonial dagger and pricked his finger to let a few droplets of blood dribble onto the map.

" _Invenire, quae sunt amissa,"_ he cast with his Aunt Lucretia's wand. He hadn't known that she had died, but had always liked her.

His blood glowed, coming together into a hardened bead. It began to roll away from London, where he had let the drops hit. Across the Channel, down and completely across Germany, over Austria, down into the Balkans until it came to rest…

Albania. Well, that certainly cleared things up. There were only so many wizards who ran around claiming to be the Heir of Slytherin.

It was Voldemort.

 **Step 4- Find Harriet. Kick-Ass. Take Names.**

This step might be easier said than done.

* * *

Next update is planned for Friday, 6/7


	36. Captivus: Litha

Harri had snuck through the school enough times to know that their escape would be without issue. The invisibility cloak, which she had always viewed as a blessing, now felt like a curse.

Up the pipe they had gone, after a hiss for stairs from Tom, and into Myrtle's bathroom. Harri had wanted to call out to Myrtle, but something stopped her. It was like a barrier on her tongue that prevented her from speaking. If she pushed through she was sure that she could vocalize a call for help, but that was the point, wasn't it? Her magic was giving her a warning that to call out would be to break her oath. Sure she could do it, but the line in the sand was clear.

Harri didn't call out, and carefully walked down the eerily empty halls of Hogwarts, until they reached the Great Hall and slid out of the school with no one the wiser. Riddle led her down to the Hogwarts Gate and smiled happily as they reached the barrier.

"Dumbledore will know that we're gone now," he said cheerily, taking out Harri's wand. "The Headmaster can always tell if someone is coming or going through the grounds."

Harri looked around desperately from under the cloak, hoping to see Dumbledore rushing towards them. He didn't appear. For the moment it took Tom to whisk them away, Harri was struck with how helpless she felt. Would it always be like this? Harri alone in the world, and no matter what the adults said- in the end, it was Harri who had to take care of herself.

Then they apparated with a pop.

The squeezing sensation always made Harri feel like she was about to vomit, but it was over quickly enough. They couldn't have gone too far. Certainly not all the way to Albania. When Dumbledore apparated them to Norway and Germany she had felt like the squeezing sensation would never end.

They appeared in a village.

They were standing at the head of a lane under a dark blue sky, in which the night's first stars were already glimmering feebly. Cottages stood on either side of the narrow road. A short way ahead of them, a glow of golden streetlights indicated the center of the village.

"Let us remove the cloak," said Riddle. "No need to hide, no one would expect us to come here first."

"Where is here?" Harri asked. Why would Riddle take her to a quaint English village?

"Godric's Hollow," Riddle replied, stowing the Cloak in his robe pocket.

Riddle made to walk forward, but Harri was rooted to the spot. He took her hand and tried to lead her on, but she shook her head.

It was in Godric's Hollow that, but for Voldemort, Harri would have had a family and grown up. She would have spent her school holidays here. She might have had brothers and sisters. Her mother might have made her birthday cakes. Her father would have taught her to fly. The life she had lost, but that hardly seemed like it could have been real at all… This is where it would have been.

This lane would have been familiar, not just a lane in a village she did not know.

"Come along, Harriet. You're making a fuss." She felt the push of magic at his words and made her feet move.

"I've never been here before," she told him. "Why are we here now?"

"My wand," he said simply. He hadn't let go of her hand yet and was leading her down the lane.

"Your wand can't be here still! They would have taken it with your body."

"My body?" he asked, almost laughing. "There couldn't have been a body. That vessel would have been destroyed when my soul was ripped away by the Killing Curse."

"How could your wand be here? The Ministry would have found it, wouldn't they have?"

"No. I made sure of that." That was all he said on the subject, and he led her towards the square.

As they approached the town's center what Harri thought to be a War Memorial shifted into a statue of two people holding a small child. Her feet moved faster, and soon she was pulling Tom along so that she could look at the monument.

Harri drew close, gazing up into her parent's faces. She had never imagined that there would be a statue… How strange it was to see herself represented in stone, a happy baby without a scar on her forehead.

"Yes, Yes," said Riddle, as he pulled Harri away. "A monument to my defeat and exile."

"Those are my parents. They died for me," she said, looking up hungrily into her mother's kind face.

Riddle paused in his tugging and looked more closely up at the statue. "What is it like, Harriet?"

"What?" Harri said, not looking away.

"To have parents who died for you. I can't say that I can relate. My mother died at the orphanage I was born in. My father… well, he died for me in a way. Not willingly of course."

"It hurts," Harri said, turning to look at Riddle. "It always hurts. You robbed me of childhood, of parents who would have shown me kindness, of sisters or brothers, of grandparents my children will never know. That is what you owe me, Tom Riddle." She didn't know where the words came from exactly, but she knew that they were true and she could feel magic thrumming in agreement.

He let go of her wrist and stepped back a step. "Ah, now that is something," he hissed. "You've declared a debt. I acknowledge it, Harriet Potter." The tightness in his voice loosened as he said this, then he went on, "But you have put yourself in my power first- your word to me must be fulfilled before my obligation to you begins."

The held gazes for several long beats, the Harri turned and looked back at her parents. "Where to?" she asked softly.

"This way." He led her down a dark street leading out of the village in the opposite direction from which they had entered. Harri could make out the point where the cottages ended and the lane turned into open country again. They walked quickly and came to the house at the very end of the row.

A hedge had grown wild in the decade since Hagrid had taken Harri from the rubble that lay scattered amongst the waist-high grass. Most of the cottage was still standing, though entirely covered in dark ivy, but the right side of the top floor had been blown apart; that, Harri was sure, was where the curse had backfired. She stood, gazing up at the wreck of what must have been a cottage just like those that flanked it.

Harri felt her knees go weak and she grasped onto the rusted gate. Her touch on the gate activated something. A sign rose out of the ground in front of them, up through the tangles of nettles and weeks, like some bizarre, fast-growing flower, and in golden letters upon the wood it said:

On this spot, on Samhain 1981,

Lily and James Potter lost their lives.

Their daughter, Harriet, remains the only witch

Ever to have survived the Killing Curse.

This house, invisible to Muggles, has been left

In its ruined state as a monument to the Potters

And as a reminder of the violence

That tore apart their family.

She sniffed.

"Good Lord, wait here Harriet. I don't know what you'll act like if you actually go inside," said Tom in exasperation.

He hopped the gate and entered the house. Why would his wand still be here? Was that even possible? Surely the Ministry would have found it.

She shook her head and looked down at the sign. A monument. This was no monument in her eyes. She wished it wasn't here. What good was a reminder of pain? What sympathy did it generate? It felt like a place for people to come and gawk, just like when they looked at her a living monument with a lightning bolt scar.

Maybe she was being unkind. Plenty of families had suffered during the war. Mrs. Weasley had lost her brothers, for example. Her family wasn't the only one torn apart, and it was ungenerous of her to assume that wizards and witches wouldn't want to come here and see where it ended for their own peace of mind.

Only it wasn't over.

Here she was, on her way to help restore the Dark Lord. And for what purpose now? Ginny was alive. If she broke her word did that mean that Ginny would drop dead somehow?

Was she willing to risk it?

No. The answer came quickly. She had bargained for Ginny's life, and wouldn't risk it now that the apparent danger had passed. Her own magic, what did she care? She had lived without it for eleven years, she could go on without it again. The lives of others though… would there be some bargain she could strike with the Dark Lord so that it wouldn't be war again? No more killings?

Tom came out of the house, two wands grasped in his hands. He had been right after all.

"How did you know it would be here?"

"I soaked my wand in a potion I developed soon after I graduated Hogwarts. None would be able to see my wand unless they expressly planned to return it to me. Once holding it they would be compelled to find me, no matter the cost."

Harri eyed the wand uneasily. "Demiguise Hair, Scurvy Grass, Syrup of Hellebore, and Lethe River Water?" Harri guessed.

Riddle looked quite pleased, "and Doxy Eggs. That's quite clever. Little Ginny mentioned that you were Snape's would-be-apprentice."

"That potion you made is quite vile," she said.

"It wouldn't affect anyone unless they were able to pick it up," he said dismissively. "Which means they'd want to find me anyways."

"You aren't the whole Voldemort, why doesn't it affect you?"

"All I am is Lord Voldemort," he said simply. "I doubt it would do anything to you either, Harriet, if it makes you feel better."

She grimaced.

He swung himself over the gate again. "Here," said Riddle, holding out her wand.

"You're trusting me with a wand?"

"You already swore on your magic that you would cooperate until I released you," he replied with a shrug. "And we're going to be around God knows how many Muggles. I'd rather you had something to defend yourself with."

"Why are we going to be around Muggles?"

"We can't exactly Porkey to Albania," he said grumpily. "Those will be monitored. I suppose we could apparate, but I'd be using more of my new magical core than is wise. So we'll fly."

"On a Muggle airplane?"

"Yes. Have they come along since my day?"

"I've never flown in one, but I think so, yes. We'll have to go to Heathrow, in London. And we'll need money and passports. And I don't think Muggles will find it normal for two children to go flying on their own."

"I pass for eighteen," he said confidently.

"Well I don't," she replied testily.

"You can be my cousin, and we're flying to meet family in Greece. I'll confund anyone who questions it."

She supposed they could pass as cousins. They didn't look at all like siblings. She had red hair and hazel eyes, and he had dark hair with dark eyes. Cousins didn't ever look alike though; Dudley being blonde with blue-eyed.

"If you say so," she shrugged. "Do you know where Heathrow is?"

"Not a clue. Is it where the London Airport used to be?"

"I've no idea. It's off A4 I think." He looked at her blankly.

"We should get a cab in London, then," she offered. He nodded, well at least that word made sense to him. She wondered when Hackney had fallen out of the vernacular.

"But what about a passport or money?" she implored.

"We're magic, Harriet. I think we can take care of it," his smirk made her want to hit him, and she wondered if it would be breaking her Vow if she did.

* * *

The forests of Albania in May were stunningly beautiful. Harri never would have thought, most of what she knew about Albania came from Muggle Primary school discussions of the Balkan states since 1989. She had imagined poor old ladies that were humped from all the communist labor.

And maybe such women did exist, but Albania had never been a proper Soviet State. It was poor, and not exactly densely populated. The people there didn't seem interested in drawing attention to themselves, much like Harri and Tom. Thus it was easy to slip into the treeline and be as forgotten as the wind.

When they made camp that first night Tom conjured two tents that were much nicer inside than they were outside. They had real beds and working (though antiquated) appliances. Most importantly they had bathrooms with flushing loos. Harri hadn't fancied the idea of dealing with that particular issue, having never been 'Muggle Camping' before. Even her African adventure with Snape had involved hotels, inns, and occasionally a very grand tent that he kept tucked away in his magically expanded satchel.

Harri made herself useful and built a fire, wondering as she cast if it would alert anyone as to where she was. She glanced around speculatively after each spell she cast, and when Tom noticed he only said, "I doubt Albania is monitoring magic use closely. Britain is rather singular. They've had the Ministry cast observation wards on every corner of London. And when a Muggle-born presents they cast the wards all around their neighborhood." Harri thought of the CCTV cameras that Uncle Vernon had praised London for installing, with plans to put 200 million pounds into the infrastructure over the next decade.

Muggle or Magical, they weren't so different, were they?

* * *

"What did you do for fun growing up"

"I'm sure I don't know what you mean. I lived in an orphanage during the War. There wasn't fun."

"Did you amuse yourself somehow?"

"I would occasionally instruct my fellow orphans on proper respect for their betters." She didn't want to know what that meant.

There was a lull as Harri stared into the fire. It had been four days in the woods. She tried to keep the date straight in her head. She had gone into the Chamber of the 29th of May. It was now June 5th.

Tom left her most of the time. During the day he would leave the camp and go off into the woods. Usually, he came back with something; a cauldron, some ingredients, tea, or food. Today he had come back empty-handed, and he looked worse for wear. He sat very quietly by the fire.

"What happened today?" she asked finally, unable to stand the silence. He looked forlorn.

"Are you willingly helping me, Harriet?" Tom asked.

"No," she answered. The press of magic forced her tongue to keep speaking. "But I'm willing to do what you ask for the vow I made."

"Hmm…" he stayed quiet after that for what must have been a quarter of an hour. Harri gave up talking to him and laid down in the clearing to look up at the stars. "What did you do as a child for fun, Harriet?" he asked suddenly.

"I didn't have a fun childhood either," she said softly. "I used to play the piano and guitar some. I don't really anymore."

"Why not?" he asked from his perch on the log she'd levitated into their camp on her second day there.

"I used to play because I was alone and unhappy."

"And you aren't anymore?" he asked, and it was mocking.

"I don't know if I've ever really been happy," she said. "You keep messing it up for me. Whenever I think I'm close… you come in and ruin it all."

"Then why did you stop playing?"

"I had other things to focus on. Life wasn't about surviving until I was eighteen and escaping my relatives. It was about my friends, classes, Snape, potions. There were lots of things that I liked doing so I didn't have to focus on…" Harri trailed off.

"On how unhappy you were," he finished.

"That isn't really right either," she said. "I just wish… I wish that people didn't sway so easily. Snape tells everything to Dumbledore. Dumbledore is- well I don't really know, do I? It's all calculation, isn't it? My friends… well as soon as Draco Malfoy, the worst person EVER, tells Hermione I'm possessed- by YOU thanks a lot- she starts searching through all my things. Ron and Neville let Malfoy set a snake on me instead of just ASKING. It's always the same, isn't it? No matter how good I am, everyone is looking at me from a thousand different angles searching for my flaw."

"You'll always have me, Harri," he said, and she felt his eyes on her. She kept looking up at the stars.

"No I won't," she answered at last and then got up to go to bed.

* * *

The forest was dark and Harri was tired. She hadn't been able to sleep well for weeks. The constant movement of camp, of Tom leaving for long stretches at a time, and the general disquiet of the forest had left her perpetually frightened.

Harri was certain that Tom had found Voldemort. For some reason, he never brought him up. Harri had expected to be dragged before the Dark Lord and used to miraculously bring him back to life. Instead, it had been bitter weeks alone in the dark forest. Tom could be gone days at a time, and when that happened every sound made her jump.

She liked it better when he stayed at camp. At least then there was someone to talk to. He was surprisingly chatty about his childhood at the orphanage and his time at Hogwarts. He didn't make any more of those strange sexual advances, didn't even try to touch her. Sometimes she would catch him looking at her for too long, and when she would catch his gaze it would feel like fire was licking her skin. But he didn't touch her, which was a relief.

He was brewing a lot. He had five cauldrons going at once and had left specific instructions for how to stir them each day. He didn't let Harri add any ingredients, which she was glad for. The magical compulsion would have made her help, and that felt far too close to actively assisting in the Dark Lord's return for Harri's comfort. Maybe Tom realized that and knew there was only so far he could push her before Harri would break her vow unintentionally.

She mulled over the date. June 19th. It had been three weeks since she had been stunned and taken down into the Chamber of Secrets. Three weeks since she'd last seen Snape. Was he alive? Was Ginny? They had been left down in the Chamber with Fawkes. Harri liked to think the Pheonix had flown them out, or at the very least gone to get Dumbledore. What if it had all closed up and they could escape? What if they were dead? Would everyone think that she was dead too? Rotting down in the Chamber or in the stomach of a Basilisk. Too morbid, she reminded herself. Think about something else.

What else was there to think about? She had already gone through every topic she could think of. She had made list after list of potions ingredients and their various uses. Listed out loud every potion she could think of my heart. Written out as much transfiguration theory as she could recall. She had even written out every Magi-Zoologist manual she could remember, trying to compile animals and their different characteristics from multiple perspectives; like an encyclopedia. She found several contradictions between Newt Scamander and Edwardus Lima on the subject of Sphynx. She felt like Hermione but was really just stir-crazy.

Harri stood to add a log to the fire. Technically, she could cast magical flame that would burn all night, but with very little to do, Harri had started casting the severing charm to hack up trees. She burned the wood at night for lack of anything else to do, not to mention the burning wood smelled better and the smoke kept the bugs away.

There was a rustle in the treeline. Her head snapped up from the fire and she looked around. Harri's heart began to race with fear. Was it Tom come back? Had the spirit of Lord Voldemort come to kill her? Some sort of animal? She gripped her wand and tried to think of a spell to defend herself with. If some great bear rushed out at her though… would a severing charm do the trick?

A large black dog stepped out of the darkness.

She stifled a scream. Was it a Grimm? Those weren't even real animals! The were omens of death that cracked up witches and wizards would go on about. No magizoologist had ever seen one. Had she cracked and gone mad in her loneliness? Was that what this was?

Then the dog began to change. It grew into the shape of a man. A mass of filthy, matted hair hung to his elbows. If eyes hadn't been shining out of deep, dark sockets, he might have been a corpse. The waxy skin was stretched so tightly over the bones of his face, it looked like a skull.

Harri knew him.

He was much aged from the photos she had of him, but ten years with Dementors couldn't be good for someone's looks. It was Sirius Black. Had he come to rejoin the Dark Lord then? The man who had betrayed her parents and had claimed to have been their friend all along. She thought of Remus Lupin. She thought of poor Peter Pettigrew who had been blown apart.

"Go away," she snapped at him. "He's not here, so go. I don't want to see you."

Black didn't move. He stared at her with those piercing eyes. His mouth was open slightly, as if in shock.

"Did you hear me? He's not here! Leave."

"Harriet," Black said softly. She felt so angry she wanted to hit him. She raised her wand instead.

"I'll curse you if you if you don't get out."

Before she could manage, Black drew his own wand and croaked, " _Expelliarmus!"_ Harri's wand flew out of her hand, and Black caught it. Then he took a step closer, his eyes fixed on Harri.

"You can't kill me," she spat at him. "Voldemort won't like that. He needs me alive for this," she gestured around at the cauldrons.

"I'm not here to kill you, Harriet," Black said softly.

"Then you're here to see _him_ , so leave. I don't want to see you. I don't ever want to see you."

"I don't blame you for that, Harriet. But I'm not here for the bloody Dark Lord either. I'm here for you. To help you escape."

"No, you aren't. It's a trick." Harri said, shaking her head. "Did he set this up? To see if I'd leave? Because I'm not. Ginny's life for my cooperation. That was the agreement. I'm not breaking it and losing my magic just so Ginny can die."

"I'm not sure I follow," Black said slowly. "But perhaps we should clear this part up first. I'm not a Death Eater."

"Yes, you are. You killed my parents." Black stared at her out of those sunken eyes.

"I don't deny it," he said. "But if you knew the whole story."

"The whole story?" Harri repeated a furious pounding in her ears. "You sold them to Voldemort. That's all I need to know."

"That's not true," said Black. "Harriet… your parents-" his voice cracked, "Lily and James are dead because of me. But not in the way you think. I would NEVER give them up to Voldemort. NEVER. James was my brother- and you…" he looked at her with those haunted eyes. "You were all any of us had, Harriet. We loved you."

"That makes no sense at all, you liar," Harri spat. "You gave them up, everyone heard Pettigrew-"

Black cut her off, "That RAT," he snarled. "That rat is the one who betrayed your parents, Harri. Not me. NEVER me."

Harri looked at him hard. Something had always felt wrong in the tale she had heard about Sirius Black, loyal best friend, suddenly turning Dark. Like she had missed five chapters in a story.

"Tell me then. Give me back my wand and tell me. Because after all the stories I heard from Remus, it never made any sense."

So he told her.

It wasn't a long story, but it was tragic. It was the Count of Monte Cristo, only Peter Pettigrew had probably died that day, and with him any chance of Sirius being cleared.

"He could still be a rat somewhere," Black told her, "I've no idea if he's survived. I hope he's rotting in hell for what he did, Harri. All those years living with Snape of all people. It must have been the worst kind of childhood."

"Snape didn't raise me."

"The paper said that he's your Guardian."

"He is. But he isn't the one who raised me. I lived with my Aunt and Uncle until I was eleven. But my magic was all wrong, and Snape noticed, and well… he got me to submit a bunch of memories to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement and…"

"Those Muggles abused you," Black said bluntly.

Harri took a deep breath before answering, "Yes."

"I should kill them," Black snarled. "Then at least I really would be a murderer."

"No," Harri gasped. "No. It isn't what my parents would want. They wouldn't you to become a killer- just for _them_."

"We should go, Harri," Black said, "but from what you first said, you can't leave, can you?"

Harri shook her head. "I made a vow in the Chamber of Secrest on my magic that I would stay with Tom, that is the young Voldemort that opened the Chamber if he let Ginny Weasley live."

Black shook his head. "I know it's a lot to ask for you to give up your magic, Harriet, but it isn't worth him coming back…"

"I know," she said. "I'd give up my magic in a heartbeat if it meant he wouldn't return. But I can't let Ginny die."

"It might not mean her death," Black said slowly. "He didn't cast _Captivus_ , did he?"

"I don't know, I've never heard of that spell," Harri said shaking her head.

"It's not like an Unbreakable Vow or a Magical Oath. If you break the Unbreakable Vow, it's you who suffers. Sometimes a wizard might decide it's worth his life to break one. Captivus though… well, that uses someone else as collateral. It uses a third party as insurance. If you were to break a Captivus Vow, then Miss. Weasley would die if that was the term of the agreement."

"How do I know if it was cast?" Harri asked.

"Her magic would be saturated into something, usually parchment so it can function as a contract. Then the two making the bond would sign in blood."

Harri thought of the diary and her slashed hand. She wasn't sure if that was what had actually happened, but if she had to guess it was. The Diary had been saturated with Ginny's magic. Tom Riddle didn't have blood. It had been ink that had oozed out of his split lip.

"I think it's that," Harri said. "Captivus. I think that's what he used when I agreed."

Black nodded. "That does complicate things."

Harri sat down on the forest floor. What she needed was for Riddle or Voldemort to release her from her vow before he used her. That… or she needed to be able to negotiate with him once he was back in power to prevent another war. If this was a game of Poker, her hand was looking like she should fold. What she needed was for Dumbledore or Snape to show up. Black was a welcome addition to Team Harri, but what could he really do?

Well… he could deliver a letter.

Tom Riddle returned the next night none the wiser of Harri's visitor.

* * *

Despite his friendly smile and lack of conversation on the matter, Tom Riddle was in the forest of Albania to resurrect the Dark Lord. He described himself as a fraction, a mere splinter of the whole, and as such he _wanted_ the larger soul portion to be the living piece.

"Wouldn't you rather it was just you instead?" Harri had asked.

"I crave what is best for the whole," he had answered with a shrug. "Don't be fooled by my corporeal form. I'm still not _real_. It's ink that flows through my veins. Stolen magic that powers my core. I am the soul of Lord Voldemort, but I'm not the First portion."

"Are you willingly helping me, Harriet?" Tom had asked her weeks ago.

"No." she had answered.

A week later he had asked, "Would you say that I'm forcing you to help?"

"I… yes? Why?" but he didn't really need to answer her. Intent mattered with magic, and with potions most of all. He was brewing like mad, and Harri could tell where this was going. It was intent that fed the magic of potions. A Muggle wouldn't be able to brew them. Magical intent went into the simmering ingredients and they warped and changed accordingly.

"I'm going to take something from you," he had told her. "Whether you view yourself as willing or not matters."

Would she rather be willing? Would she rather it be forced? Harri didn't have an answer.

On June 22nd Tom Riddle appeared back at camp with a strange bundle. He carried it gently, like a baby. It made a harsh hissing sound, and Harri backed away from the on instinct when they entered the clearing.

"What is that?" she asked, not taking her eyes off the strange bundle. Before Tom could answer her, her scar began to throb with pain. Her back was against a tree, and she slid down it into a crouch. The magic of the thing was like a tidal wave, and she was drowning in the pain it was causing her.

"Now now, Harriet, none of that," said Riddle. He put his bundle in his tent and came back to her. "We thought that this would be an issue, and it appears we were right. Drink this," and he unstoppered a vial.

"What is it?" she asked in a croak.

"A stabilization potion. The connection you have to the Dark Lord should have been stabilized years ago. You magic probably gets spent out trying to maintain it. Do you find it hard to cast spells still?"

Harri took the potion and gave it a sniff. She wouldn't really be able to tell if it was a poison; poison could be scentless, sweet, or bitter. It made her feel better and like she had some modicum of control.

"I'm not here to kill you, Harriet," Riddle snipped. "Drink up. It will help with the pain and it's time for us to get going. Back to England." She downed the potion, and it did soothe the pain. She only had a faint headache by the time they had finished packing up their campsite.

Not one to pull the same trick twice, Riddle had them on buses and trains this time to get back to England. The horrid bundle that Tom carried was wrapped in the Invisibility Cloak. The train from Paris to London arrived promptly at eight in the morning on June 24th. Harri wasn't stupid. She knew that they had returned to England on a day Dumbledore was sure to be out of the country. Would he come looking for her instead of fulfilling his rites as the Lord of Light?

She somehow doubted it. Even if, as Riddle claimed, the magic didn't do anything, Dumbledore followed his role. He would be in Estonia today. Riddle cast a subtle notice-me-not charm on them once they were on the other side of the channel, cast _portus_ on his watch, and had Harri grasp it.

When their train pulled into the station there were two fewer passengers onboard.

Instead, they appeared on a hill overlooking a village. The house before her was worn down. Some of the windows were boarded up, tiles were missing from the roof, and ivy had spread unchecked over its face. It had the look of a once very fine manor, but it was currently derelict and unoccupied.

"Where are we?" Harri asked Tom, still looking at the sad old mansion.

"Little Hangleton. This used to be the home of Tom Riddle."

"This was an orphanage?"

"No. My father and grandparents lived here, once. They are very dead now."

"Why are we here then?"

"For something my father left behind," said Riddle. "We're off to the graveyard Harriet. No more questions. Just sit once we get there and don't interfere."

Harri followed Riddle down the hill to a small old church where there was a dark overgrown graveyard and a large yew tree next to it. Once they entered through the gate, Riddle began to cast wards around the perimeter so that they wouldn't be bothered. That was good, Harri supposed while finding a bench, some Muggle didn't need to die just because they had wandered to the wrong place.

Once done with his wards, Riddle began used the cracked headstones to make something… after a few moments, it became a large stone cauldron. Bigger than any that even Snape had, she thought morosely. Big enough for a grown man to sit in.

Tom returned to his bag and pulled out one of the potions he had brewed. He poured it into the cauldron, and despite the small size of the flask it didn't run out. It poured and poured until the entire stone cauldron was full. Next, he flicked his wand to start a fire, and the potion began to heat quickly.

Harri tried to remember which potion this was, but it was fairly clear even after brewing. That could be any number of brews. Was it the one that had used Dragonfly wings; used for rejuvenation. Or perhaps the potion that had utilized all that blood, but had still somehow come out clear at the end.

The surface of the potion began to send out fiery sparks, as though it were on fire. Steam was thickening, blurring the outline of Tom tending to the fire. The whole surface of the water was alight with sparks It might have been encrusted with diamonds.

Tom turned back to his bag and carefully lifted the horrid baby-like creature from Harri's cloak. It raised its thin arms, put them around Riddle's neck, and Tom lifted it. Even Tom looked revolted by the hairless and scaly-looking thing.

Tom lowered the creature into the cauldron; there was a hiss, and it vanished below the surface; Harri head its frail body hit the bottom with a soft thud.

 _Maybe it won't work_ Harri thought hopefully. But she knew that Tom would be too good for that. He began to speak in a chant; " _Bone of the father, unknowingly given, you will renew your son!_ "

The surface of a grave near the cauldron cracked. Harri watched as a fine trickle of dust rose into the air at Riddle's command and fell softly into the cauldron. The diamond surface of the water broke and hissed; it sent sparks in all directions and turned a vivid, poisonous-looking blue.

"Come here, Harriet," Riddle called. Though she didn't want to, she was compelled to move forward.

Riddle produced a silver dagger. "Hold out your hand over the fire," he commanded. She wondered if he would take her whole hand? She wanted the vomit.

" _Blood of the flame, forcibly taken, you will resurrect your foe."_

Riddle sliced her hand, and her blood dribbled in. The potion turned a burning red.

"Well Harriet, it's been nice," Tom said to her carefully.

"What?" she said, turning to him.

"No questions, Harri, remember," he said with a twist of his lips.

Riddle climbed into the cauldron, the hot stone burning his hand as he touched it. He grimaced in pain, but his voice clear as he said, " _Soul of my Soul, return to true strength with this sacrifice of self."_

Harri wanted to say that Tom Riddle looked afraid as he plunged the knife into his chest. Perhaps it was only resignation instead of fear, but she wanted it to be fear. He deserved to afraid after everything he had put her through. Let him fear that it wouldn't work. That he died for nothing. That the thing in the cauldron would drown.

Life drained from his face, and the memory of Tom Riddle dipped below the surface. The liquid within the cauldron turned a blinding white. Harri stepped back.

Could she run now if Tom Riddle was dead? That was what the bond had agreed to, hadn't it? She turned to leave the graveyard but felt the press of her magic telling her that her bond had not yet been fulfilled. If Tom Riddle wasn't dead then…

The cauldron was simmering, sending its diamond sparks in all directions. Then, suddenly, the sparks emanating from the cauldron were extinguished. A surge of white steam billowed thickly from the cauldron instead. Then… through the mist in front of her, she saw the dark outline of a man.

He was taller than Tom had been. More muscular too. A man full grown that had lost all trace of boyhood. The face was no longer the horrible snake-like visage that had gone into the cauldron. It was Tom's face, or at least an older version of it. He was horribly handsome still, but it was worse somehow. More like a predator, which Harri hadn't thought possible. They weren't Tom's eyes looking at her, no. The eyes were still the blood red of that creature.

"Hello, Harriet," said the cold voice of Lord Voldemort.


	37. Captivus: The Summer of Hermione Granger

Sometimes Hermione felt frozen in place.

How to describe the experience of being petrified? Her mind worked over the experience again and again, but there wasn't a way to articulate it.

How did one describe being conscious, but not awake? Aware, but incapable of feeling the passage of time. She could remember every moment someone stood next to her speaking, but the moments she had been alone took on a blurred quality. It had felt like a constant stream of visitors; Madam Pomfrey, Harri, Ron, Neville… and Draco. Time had still had weight though, a horrifying continuum that she had to push aside for the sake of her own sanity.

It was over. She wasn't frozen anymore. Hermione could talk, read, run, and slip into unconsciousness. Being vital again was like frigid air in her lungs; the sweetest and sharpest of breaths.

Hermione could still feel her muscles cramp. Still found herself sitting still even though she could now move, as if her body had to remember that she was alive again. She caught herself not blinking for hours, her eyes dry and red. Worst of all, when she closed her eyes all she could see was that same spot in the Hospital Wing. For seven months all she had seen was the same spot, with faces popping in and out of existence. She had counted every tile, knew every smudge, knew that the plain white paint color was closer to a brown beige than a yellow cream.

It had been helplessness that had defined her experience as a living statue. She wondered when her mind would push the experience away, or if she would always be left with it. If she would wake almost every night gasping for breath because she had dreamed that she was back there again, cramped, frozen, and alone on a hospital bed.

"I told you this would happen," Draco had said on his first visit.

"I'm so sorry Hermione, this is all my fault," Harri had sobbed.

"We're going to stop this, Hermione," Ron had declared. "I don't bloody trust Malfoy further than I can throw him, but this thing isn't going to keep using Harri."

"This is too much like mum and dad," Neville had whispered, looking down. He moved a frizzy curl off her face. Three of the hairs had been obstructing her vision. She was glad they were gone. "I'm sorry I don't visit more, Hermione. I'm not good at this. You would think that I would be… I have so much practice." Neville's voice broke.

"I'm so alone," was Harri's chocked confession. "Everyone thinks I'm evil now. And maybe I am, Hermione because I wish you were awake. But you can't wake up until the Basilisk is gone. It could kill you."

"I can't let them know it was my father, Granger. I can't," Draco had cried, a wet tear hitting her face. "He's my father. He'll go to Azkaban. Dumbledore will stop this. He's got to. But… I know you won't forgive me."

Would she forgive him? If he had testified that it was his father that had given the book to her, submitted the memories and been done with it, Harri wouldn't be gone.

That was conjecture, Hermione reminded herself. There was no way to prove that events would have unfolded differently. Harri had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets once it was clear that the petrified students were going to be woken up. The young Lord Voldemort would be worried about what the students had seen; a justified fear when Justin had immediately identified Ginny Weasley as his attacker.

It would be impossible to make an assumption about what would have happened if Draco had come forward. Would the diary have fled? Would it still have taken Harri as a prisoner? Would a Basilisk still be slithering around the school- not magically forced back into hibernation?

These were questions that were placed on the scales, metaphorically, when Hermione weighed how upset she was at Draco Malfoy.

There were so many unknowable variables that she couldn't come to a conclusion on. Who was to say whether or not things would have gone differently had he stepped forward. She only had the tangible facts in front of her. Not what-ifs, but a clear timeline of events that could not be changed.

First, Harri was gone. The story had come out in pieces. No one had wanted to scare Hermione, thinking that she was coming out of months of unconsciousness instead of a lucid dream. Hermione had asked for her parents before she thought to ask about her friends. Her parents had been on her mind often while she was frozen in place. What she wouldn't give for her mother's warm hand against her cheek or her father's soft voice reading to her with his steady cadence. Why had they not come?

That had been its own terrible truth. Her parents hadn't been told.

It was a violation of their rights! It made her boil in anger. What kind of school didn't tell parents that their child had been attacked? Apparently, this one. According to the Statue of Secrecy, Muggleborn parents were not told if their child was ill or in danger for fear that they would pull them home. The Ministry couldn't have untrained witches and wizards running around. Or a child sick with Dragon Pox taken to Muggle London. So her parents, her University educated professional parents, had been left in the dark on their daughter's well being. Simply because the Magical World thought they were too _simple_ to handle something so complex. Emma Granger was the smartest person Hermione knew. The very idea that her mother shouldn't have input on her daughter's medical well being was ridiculous.

Then the other shoe dropped. Ginny Weasley came into the Hospital Wing with Professor Snape supporting her drooping form. Hermione could see on his face that something was horribly wrong, but he didn't stay to chat. He was off like a bat in the night, barely pausing to bark at Madame Pomfrey what was wrong with Ginny.

Ginny was asleep, but the Weasley Family arrived in short order. Apparently, _they_ had been informed that their daughter had been in danger. It was Ron, hugging Hermione tightly, that told her what had happened. Harri had been taken down into the Chamber of Secrets. Professor Snape had gone in after them. Ginny had come back, but no one had seen Harri yet.

Hermione tried to reason out the blanks. Harri wasn't dead. She couldn't be, because Professor Snape would have brought her body back. Hermione knew that it was a Basilisk down in the Chamber, and knew that the diary contained a memory of Tom Riddle, who was the Young Lord Voldemort. She knew because Harri had told her in a hushed and hurried whisper one day. It hadn't made much sense at the time, but now the memories were coming into sharper focus. Her mind was working to analyze each interaction, to focus on and sharpen what had been blurry and disjointed.

Hermione was beginning to suspect that Harri had a secret. She had divulged in first year that her soulmate was horrible, worse than Malfoy allegedly. While that hadn't seemed possible at the time, the question of Harri's soulmate nagged at Hermione. It was an itch in her brain. Before she had found out that she was a witch, Hermione's life had been well ordered. She had understood where everything fit together and could reason out the _hows_ and _whys_ of most situations. If life were a jigsaw, Hermione had most of it fitted together. Then Professor McGonagall had appeared with a magic letter, and the puzzle had fallen apart. Now, the disjointed pieces of the jigsaw Hermione was constantly trying to piece together often centered around Harri.

She was the Girl-Who-Lived; but why had Voldemort tried to kill her? How had she survived? There was no answer, and the girl that should have been dead was her best friend. Harri's magic was unbalanced and her core still wasn't stabilized. From what she had read about abused children, that wasn't normal. Dumbledore had invited Harri to Samhain, but the ritual was out of practice. Hermione had checked seventeen tomes on 'wheel of the year' ritual magic. Only very old families performed the rituals, and mostly for the sake of tradition, not for any real belief in the power. Dumbledore was often referred to as the 'Lord of Light' but Hermione could find scant information on what that even meant. He seemed well respected, and she could find lists of Lords and Lady's of Magic dating back to Merlin. What that title entailed though, or how one came to possess it, was a mystery.

Hermione's mind would often chew at a problem in the background, only to divulge the answer after a good nights sleep. Often when Hermione slept instead of dreaming she would solve problems or schedule her time for the next few weeks. Being petrified had given her brain a lot of time to chew on this mystery. She was close- and certain that they were all connected. Hermione could feel the strings of magic on these questions; an intuitive instinct she had possessed all her life.

The second clear fact was that Draco had not taken legal steps to prevent future attacks. While this was upsetting, it wasn't surprising. So far, Draco acted how she expected him to. When he had pulled her into the broom closet she had been thrown for a loop. It was out of character. She had wanted to believe that this meant that Draco held her in some sort of esteem. Having him come and talk to her for months, Hermione had realized that it was more complicated and less flattering than that.

Draco Malfoy wouldn't betray his family, but he would serve his own interest. That was why he had tried to warn Hermione. He was mad that his father had tried to take the 'Mudblood Toy' before he had decided if he wanted to play with it or not. Not something to be pleased about, but Hermione could now fit Draco Malfoy back into the puzzle of her life neatly. An antagonist, and not someone to be trusted. But… maybe someone who would look out for her if the cost wasn't too high. There weren't many witches or wizard who had Hermione's, or any muggle-borns', best interest at heart. If Draco Malfoy was now in the 'maybe a threat' category, it was better than with the opposition.

The third clear fact was that the Basilisk was now dead and would never bother another Muggleborn again.

It had taken a full twenty-four hours for that part of the story to get to Hermione. She was released from the Hospital Wing within a few hours of being revived and taken back to the Common Room by a bleary Professor McGonagall. Hermione had tried to fish for information about Harri, but McGonagall was tight-lipped. The next day Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape were gone, and a new Professor was seated at the High Table.

A still exhausted looking Professor McGonagall had taken to the podium to announce, "It is with a heavy heart that we feel that we must inform you all what has occurred at this school over the last two days…"

Professor Snape had gone into the Chamber of Secrets to save Harriet Potter and Ginny Weasley. He had slain a Basilisk, but gotten injured. As he lay dying, Professor Dumbledore's phoenix had cried on the wound, saving him. Before Professor Snape could fight to contain the Dark Object that had possessed Ginny Weasley he had been attacked by it. When he had awoken, it was to Ginny Weasley alive but Harri was gone. Professor Dumbledore and Snape were working in coordination with the Ministry to find Harri and rescue her from the 'Heir of Slytherin'. They were certain that she was not dead.

Hermione couldn't help but weigh the death of the Basilisk highly. When measuring out if Draco Malfoy had acted correctly, this was one of the heaviest weights. In other scenarios, the death of the Basilisk was not guaranteed. It was highly improbable that Severus Snape would be able to slay a Basilisk in any scenario, yet in this one he had. Never again would a student live in fear of dying at Hogwarts from a fantastic monster. Bigotry would be just that- plain bigotry not hidden under the veil of myth and legend.

Thus- when Hermione weighed the facts before her she found that she couldn't wish for a different scenario. She could forgive Draco Malfoy for not reporting his father because the results of his actions were for the net good. Harri was missing, but a Basilisk was dead. It was a strictly utilitarian view, one that showed the best results that did the least amount of evil. If the facts changed, Hermione could always reassess just how she felt about Malfoy.

For now, she would settle for ignoring him and trying to catch up on seven months of school work. She had been promised a place at Hogwarts for the month of August to do her practical work, but for June and July Hermione would be on her own trying to learn everything that she had missed.

When she wasn't doing school work she had a list of priorities.

First, look for anything that could help Harri. Or at the very least worry/pray for Harri. Hermione wouldn't' call herself religious, but she agnostic. If there was a God, god, or higher power of some form, she wanted to cover that base as best she could. 'Keep Harri safe,' became her most muttered phrase that summer.

Second, talk to her parents and start researching their legal rights. Hermione knew that her mother would want to employ a Barrister to look into what their rights over Hermione were. This hadn't been explained in Hermione's Hogwarts letter, and in her opinion that was grossly neglectful. Were there magical Barristers? There must be. She added it to her growing 'one-time task' to do list.

Third, write to her friends. In a blink, Hermione was being taken away from Ron and Neville again. They had a whole year without her, had grown closer without her. Insecurity bubbled up inside of her. If Hermione didn't write, who was to say they would still care about her? She would be annoying Hermione without Harri there, making everyone see the best sides of her. If Hermione brought out the more studious and thoughtful side of Harri, Harri brought out the more humane and kind side of Hermione. She had liked that about Harri, who had empathy pouring out of her like a wellspring. Sometimes Hermione felt off. She knew what right and wrong were, of course. But in her bombastic pursuit of truth and justice, people were often turned off. Hermione needed there to be a Harri, because without her she was a buck-toothed know-it-all who could be pushed away and ignored.

Failure had once been the worst fear of Hermione Granger. After seven months of being petrified in a Hospital bed, half awake and lonely, it was being ignored.

* * *

The school work was going better than Hermione had expected. Maybe Ron and Neville had a point when they said she was miles ahead of everyone else.

Hermione usually felt miles behind. Her compulsive need to check and double check everything she wrote came more from a fear of missing a small detail that would have been obvious to someone born in the magical world. Yes, she liked details, but the Hermione of the pre-Hogwarts letter went by a philosophy of ninety percent to manage her compulsive desire to be perfect. Her father had suggested it after she had spent an hour crying in her room after taking the entrance exam to a prestigious school.

"It wasn't perfect," eight-year-old Hermione had sobbed into her father's shoulder. "Benenden will see I'm a fraud and they won't let me in. I'll never go to Oxford and I'll never become a Barrister." Never mind that Hermione had been specifically invited to apply. It wasn't just that Hermione was competing for a place at Stowe, such a competitive venture that it was required to apply four years in advance, but she was competing for a scholarship. 30,000 pounds a year was more than two dentists could afford.

" _How_ not perfect?" her father had asked.

"What?" Hermione sniffed. "If it's not perfect, it doesn't matter."

"No," her father had said shaking head. "There are limits to these kinds of things, Hermione. You'll never be perfect, but you can always try to get your tests and projects to an attainable level. Was it at least eighty percent perfect?"

Hermione had gasped in horror, "Eighty Percent! Of course it was!"

"Eight-five, then?" her father had asked.

"Yes," she had nodded, feeling suddenly more assured in her work.

"What about ninety."

Hermione paused. Yes. She wouldn't be able to say that it was better than that, but it had to be at least ninety percent perfect.

She nodded, solemnly.

"Then ninety is your new goal, Hermione. You can work as hard as you want, but once you know it's ninety percent you need to let it go. You can't run yourself ragged, love."

For the next three years, Hermione had lived by the philosophy. It had helped quite a lot with her compulsive need to be sure every detail was just so. She stopped crying over a half-remembered fact and was able to read for pleasure again.

Her parents were pleased, which in turn, pleased Hermione.

She even got into both Benenden and Stowe, and was due to start Benenden come fall, just before she turned twelve. Then Professor McGonagall had shown up on their doorstep in June of 1991, and Hermione's life had changed.

Now she had no conception of what ninety percent was. In a world where everything from culture, early childhood education, to magic itself was alien, how would Hermione ever be able to tell what that standard of perfection was?

It was difficult to monitor her obsessive nature on school work, but she thought that she managing well enough. She had only gotten her parents to go into Diagon Alley twice that summer for supplemental books. It was only the third week of June, but honestly, no one was expecting a miracle from Hermione!

On June 22nd Hermione got a visitor.

She was going for her morning jog, something Neville has suggested that she do to clear her head when frustrated or overwhelmed, when a large black dog blocked her path with a letter in his mouth.

On first glance, the dog almost looked like the mythical Grimm, but it's wagging tail dispelled the illusion of a death omen.

Now, Hermione had never heard of Dog Post before. Owl Post had taken some getting used to, but Dog Post was not real. So it was with great skepticism that Hermione took the letter from the mouth of the hound nudging into her leg.

It was addressed like a Muggle letter in a familiar messy scrawl.

Harri!

Hermione tore open the letter with a gasp and pulled out the parchment to read;

 _Hermione,_

 _I know that this letter should probably be going directly to Snape or Dumbledore, but I don't know how well it would be received. I need you to be the one to help here, because you won't shoot on site. The dog who delivered this letter to you is actually my Godfather, Sirius Black. He's escaped from Azkaban, but he's given me an explanation of his innocence that I believe. Please ask him for a more specific account in person, I don't know how long I have to write this letter._

 _I am currently in a magically binding agreement with Tom Riddle, Lord Voldemort, called the Captivus Agreement. I have agreed not to leave his side until he releases me; or I lose my magic and Ginny Weasley dies. I am currently in Albania, but I don't think we'll be here for too much longer. Tom seems like he's preparing for something._

 _Sirius can find me no matter where I am, so I need you to get Snape and Dumbledore to use him to locate me and come to some sort of agreement with Riddle to free me, hopefully before he raises Voldemort to power again._

 _To help you, go to Remus Lupin with this letter and explain to him that Sirius is innocent. I think you and Remus going to Snape and Dumbledore to explain will ensure that Sirius doesn't get kissed by a dementor on sight._

 _You can plan better than I can, so if you can see any holes in this logic talk to Sirius and Remus to adapt._

 _I miss you,_

 _Harri_

Hermione looked at the dog that was looking at her speculatively. Sirius Black- she had heard that he escaped. It had even been on the muggle news.

Harri seemed convinced that he was innocent, but Hermione didn't have a way to verify that. Who was to say that Harri wasn't being forced to write the letter if she was being bound up by a vow.

Would he make a vow himself?

"I have no reason to trust you," Hermione told the dog. "I'm going to need a guarantee of some kind that you aren't lying. Or that you aren't working for Voldemort. This could all be a lie."

A man suddenly stood before her. He was gaunt with long black hair. He was ghoulish and didn't look like an innocent man. Ten years in Azkaban, Hermione reminded herself. Ten years around Dementors would make anyone look horrifying.

"I have no problem making a vow that I'm not working for that bastard," he spat.

His appearance was horrifying, but his voice was that of a young man.

"Swear on your magic that you're trying to help Harri get free of her vow to the Dark Lord," Hermione squeaked, mind whirring fast. Was the wording good enough? Did it leave room for a betrayal?

"I swear to you on my magic, Hermione Granger, that I am working to help Harriet Potter get free of her vow to the Dark Lord Voldemort," he said firmly.

"Oh…" Hermione said lamely, as she felt a magical snap. "Well then," she looked behind herself at her empty house. "Would you like to come in?"

"Do you have food?" he asked with a wolfish grin.

Hermione nodded mutely, stunned silent by the rush of information. Harri was indeed alive, but was her plan the best one? Could Sirius Black be trusted?

"Tell me how you are innocent of killing twelve muggles with a single curse?" she asked harshly, once they were seated at the table in her kitchen. He was wolfing down buttered bread with jam and tea.

Before he could even open his mouth, she went on, "I'll have you know that I'm Muggleborn and that my parents are muggles. So if you think that I'll stand for any kind of violence against them-"

"I like The Who and The Kinks," he said cutting her off. "Lily Potter took me to concerts and taught me how to drive. I have my motorcycle license with the UK. I ran away from home with I was fourteen because I couldn't stand the trash my family was spouting. Couldn't stand that they wanted to support a maniac who would kill people to gain a little power. No, I'm no Dark Lord supporter and I'll thank you very much to stop implying it."

"You can't blame me for worrying about," Hermione tried, furious. "You're an escaped convict!'

Sirius Black did something very unexpected next. He didn't try to tell her more about Muggle culture or explain why he was innocent. Instead, he showed her his wrist. It was covered with a dirty bandage, and he pulled it off with a yank.

The words were white, like a scar. They said, "You're are right git, Black." Hermione looked up at him, surprised. No one, especially not pureblood wizards, ever showed their marks.

"Her name was Dorcas Meadows. She was Muggle-born, like you."

"Weren't you angry?" Hermione snapped harshly. "Didn't you hate it, because mine-"

"Dorcas was amazing," Black interjected. "The best flyer I ever met. She could have played for England! When my parents found out- and you better believe I didn't let them know- they had her family killed. Tried to kill her too. That's why I left when I was fourteen. She never forgave me. She died in 1981, fighting the good fight like the goddamned warrior she was."

Hermione didn't have much of anything to say to that. Black poured himself another cup of tea.

"Would you mind if I used your washroom?" he asked mildly, removing his wrist from the table and out of her sight.

Hermione could only nod.

* * *

Next update 6/21

Thanks to OliviaRoseGrey, TomRiddlesTwin, PrincessMagic, JQAlsus , Valen Goncalvez , trulte , Neredia , Delicious darkness, ALIASTESIN, sophiewhettingsteel, and Amythesica for reviewing.


	38. Captivus: The Dark Lord Voldemort

' _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches_

 _Born to those who have thrice defied him_

 _Born as the Seventh Month dies'_

Those were the words that Severus Snape brought him in the spring of 1991. The words had filled him with rage, a visceral hatred that marked most of Voldemort's life. He knew how to hate better than anyone, and he hated whoever this child was. There would be no chance for him to grow into his power. Oh no, Lord Voldemort would see to that.

That July, two children were born.

One, Neville Longbottom. Pureblood. Born to Alice and Frank Longbottom on July 30th.

He had thought, this is the one. This is the child that is to be your downfall. It would not do, so he set Bellatrix to finding the Longbottoms. Dumbledore would hide them, but that wouldn't stop his Death Eaters. Oh no, if he declared that it was time for the Longbottoms to die, they would die.

The next day he received word from Peter Pettigrew that another child had been born.

One, Harriet Dorea Potter. Half-Blood. Born to Lily and James Potter on July 31st. Named for her great-grandfather, Henry Potter, and her great-great-aunt Dorea Black if he wasn't mistaken.

There was no question of Longbottom or Potter, only the knowledge that she was the child. He hadn't expected a girl child, but he could feel in his bones that it was _her_ , not the Longbottom brat. He made his plans and bided his time. Pettigrew gave them up the following year. It had taken calm pressure; the slow application of threats and promises of glory to break the rat.

He broke, and Voldemort had the location of the Potter girl. It was best to snip the bud before it came into bloom, he had thought calmly, walking into Godric's Hollow.

James Potter was unarmed and easily defeated. He followed the woman, Lily Potter, up the stairs into her child's nursery. She, too, was unarmed. Voldemort had never been one for fair play and preferred an enemy who couldn't fight back.

The pleading mother was dispatched quickly. Severus had asked for her to be spared, but Lily Potter was too much trouble alive. Which only left the girl.

He paused and studied her. Red hair and hazel eyes. Standing in her crib screaming for her mother. And this? This was the girl who foretold his downfall?

Pathetic.

" _Avada Kedavra_."

Then there was pain. The pain of being ripped out of his body. The pain of his soul being ripped. The pain of death.

When it was over he was above his body, looking down. He watched as it began to disintegrate into ash. That meant that his existence was no longer of the corporeal... he was a wraith now. His Horcruxes had worked, but he had assumed that he would be given new life from one. A new body. Not this. He felt weak. Would it be possible to get to safety before Dumbledore appeared? The bloody second floor had been blown up, it wouldn't be long until he appeared.

At least the girl was dead, he thought.

Except… she wasn't. The little girl was crying in her crib, still very much alive. Her forehead was bloody, and he could just make out a lightning bolt scar.

There wasn't time to ponder. To poke or prod. He needed to leave. Voldemort had an organized mind and purposefully committed this scene to memory. He would go over it with a fine-toothed comb.

Later.

Until then, the girl would cry. There was nothing he could to do to stop her at the moment.

 _Next time, Harriet Potter,_ he thought, a mean ghost on the wind. _I'll kill you next time._

* * *

Through the mist, he could finally make her out with his own eyes again; his first sight in a body of his own. It was fitting, considering she had been his last sight too.

"Hello, Harriet," he said calmly. Feeling for all his calmness like a wolf circling a deer. He stepped out of the cauldron, located his wand, and conjured robes. The feeling of his magic was euphoric. Having a body again filled him with a pleasant tingling sensation. His last body had been riddled with dark magic, not a worthy vessel for him anymore. This new body was perfect. It felt strong and ready, where his last body had felt brittle. He had known that a transfer would have to occur eventually, and this new form would last at least fifty years.

Harriet stood, watching him silently. He wouldn't call it fear or bravery on her face, but a sort of half-hearted resignation. Her word still bound her to him, and no doubt she had hoped that with the Horcrux's 'death' she would be free. The Horcrux had done more than its fair share. It had secured the girl through magic, brought her to him, and then sacrificed itself to bring him back. All that remained would be to secure Harriet Potter's soul…

It was too soon for that, he realized. She was not yet thirteen and still far too young.

She was knob-kneed and coltish. Red hair pulled back messily. Clothes that were starting to show how often magic had been used to clean them instead of soap and water. She was bedraggled and exhausted looking.

Harriet Potter was more now than just a girl of prophecy. She was ' _Liar'_ and the future Lady of Light. Most importantly, she was his Horcrux. A gentle approach would be best, he thought. Nothing Dark to make her uneasy. She was a doe looking to startle, and the wolf would get far better results if she walked up to him instead of pursuing a long chase.

 _The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord,_ indeed. His very soul was contained in that too small girl. One wrong move or miscast spell, and she would be dead. The same cold and clammy fear that he had finally _conquered_ at sixteen came slithering back. His own immortality was wrapped up in her now. The Diary's Horcrux had fused back to his soul. Now that he had a soul that was fused, it couldn't be ripped apart again. All he had left was the cup, locket, ring, diadem, and little Harriet Potter. His soul was in six parts, not an auspicious number. The knowledge that there could be no more was irritating. Seven parts would have been better.

Harriet Potter's mortality was his weakness now, and it couldn't be allowed. _Too young_ , he thought. The time was not ripe. Innocense was a flower to be plucked in full bloom, and this little thing was still a bud.

What did one do with a thirteen-year-old girl? There was no use for her now. Was he to keep her cooped up at the Riddle House? No. That would do him no good either. The bud would never burst into bloom if she was kept captive. So what he needed was a bargain. One that would give him what he wanted while costing him nothing at all…. It was worth meditation.

"Come," he said, extending his hand.

"Where are we going?" the girl asked, stepping back instead of forward. Not reaching for him. Her voice barely shook, he noted.

Voldemort looked up at the Manor. It was close, and be all rights it was his. But, he didn't want anything to do with Tom Riddle. The man was dead, dead from his own hand. His bone had been used to revive his son, but that was the end of it. He had no desire to step foot in that Muggle's house.

"London," he said. "A hotel for now."

"The Leaky Cauldron?" she asked hopefully. He nearly laughed.

"No. Not that worn down pub. A Muggle establishment, I should think."

Her hopeful gaze died. "I thought you hated Muggles. Why would you want to be around them? Shouldn't we be going to Malfoy Manor or something?"

"Lucius was helpful, despite himself," Voldemort mused. The man had used his Horcrux to get even with a Mudblood though, not with any intention of resurrecting his Lord. The Horcrux had promised vengeance against Dumbledore and against the Mudblood, so Lucius had set his trap. "But no, my followers are not to know of my return just yet. These things should be done delicately. Without you near."

He thought of madness and rage some of them must harbor against this girl. What if they cast without his say so? Bella came to mind. What if Harriet was killed? It wouldn't do for her to be near his followers. Not until he had given the strictest of orders. Put fear and awe in their hearts once again.

Her eyes narrowed and she cocked her head to the side. "Shouldn't you want to show them all that I'm in your power?"

"That would be the plan of a madman, Harriet. You are my Twin Flame."

Her jaw clenched. She opened her mouth, and then closed it again.

"No more questions," he said. "Later. But for now, Claridge's I should think."

She gaped, but finally extended her hand to him and stepped forward. Her touch felt like a flame licking up his arm. Their twin magic was intoxicating. He had a flash of memory; her lips pressed to his in the Chamber. Cornering her by the Litha fire. Taking, and Harriet only able to give. They were memories of a sixteen-year-old boy and had no bearing on now. _Too young_ , he reminded himself. _Too soon._

He apparated them with a soft pop.

They appeared in Grosvenor Square in one of the heavily foliaged corners. Once he had known the streets of London and could have picked out a silent back alley. That was many years ago. London had changed. Between the blitz and time, Voldemort felt like a stranger in his homeland. London was no longer the place of his childhood.

From a very young age, he had wandered, always silent and invisible to those who would wish him harm. Even the posh sections had been his to explore, no one paying the battered orphan any mind. At the time he had thought he alone could perform such feats. That eventually he would be able to use his power to open the doors to luxury and influence. He had, but not in the way the young Tom had thought. There were rules to magic that Tom Riddle had not known, but he was wise to the game now. He had money and power, thus the Muggles respected him even if they didn't know _why_. Just so, he pulled his magic around them to be sure they were not noticed by the Muggles. Tourists mostly. Rules were rules, and he would keep to them for now.

She could make herself invisible without him, he knew. Her magic was boundless and riotous. How like Dumbledore to ensure that Harriet would be his match. Had the Prophecy made clear that she was his Twin Flame? The old man had played her like a pawn on the Chessboard. Like he had tried to play Voldemort all those years ago at Hogwarts.

Well, for whatever he thought about Severus Snape now (The memory of him declaring that he had no master made his blood boil. He would show him. That man's magic was as dark as any, and _his_ to Lord over), at least the man had kept his Horcrux safe. A service to the Dark in the end.

The grip from Harriet's hand tightened. "They'll see us," she hissed.

"Not at all, can't you feel my magic, Harriet?"

He looked down at her, and she breathed deeply as if having to meditate to sense what should be second nature to her. What a disservice the Hogwarts education was. She, who had magic pouring out of her like a fountain, should be able to sense and stretch her magic on a whim.

Well, there was his Horcrux to contend with. She had spent twelve years without the stabilization potion. Control should come now that the two halves were merging

"Something different to wear, I should think," he said whipping his wand in a quick motion. Fabric swirled around her, coming into form as a dark blue dress appropriate for a young girl. The neckline was modest and had a collar like a men's shirt. Pea-sized peal buttons went down the front, and it was cinched at the waist by a thin belt. Her shoes were off, and he remedied that with cream flats. It was reminiscent of the dresses the pureblood girls had worn under their robes when he had been a student at Hogwarts. No doubt it was out of style.

Harriet gave the dress a look, and he could tell she was surprised. Her free hand ghosted over the buttons. He privately hoped that men's fashion hasn't changed much since the early 1980s, and formed for himself a summer suit.

With no mirror to check his appearance, he had to trust that his look was one that was palatable to the muggle sect. He hadn't been able to roam around London without a glamour since the early 1970s. The eyes would still be red, so he cast a glamour to make them look their original dark brown.

He dropped the concealment and stepped out into the sunlight heading towards Brook St. Harriet dragged behind him.

"You won't hurt anyone, will you," she whispered, looking around at the tourists.

"My word to you, Harriet. I have no intention of hurting anyone today," he said impatiently, giving her a tug. She stumbled slightly but began to move at least.

An explosion was coming. He could feel it in the way her agitated magic danced around him. Best to get them in private so that she could ask her questions. Once she was settled… then he could focus on his new body. His plans. His followers. Then he could be the Dark Lord Voldemort. Not now though, now he needed to be a calm and trusting face. No sharp edges that would give her cause to be difficult. If he was all honey, there could be no complaint.

* * *

He dragged her forward to Brook St and up a block. They came to the brick face of Claridge's, with the iconic flags fluttering out front of the lobby. If Aunt Petunia could see her now, she wanted to laugh manically. This could only be described as shock because she most certainly wasn't walking hand in hand with her parent's killer to stay in a luxury hotel in London.

The doorman nodded at them as they walked into the lobby, and she wanted to scream at him. It was the Dark Lord. Run. Get away. Her magic pressed her mouth shut. _Do not break your vow, Harri_ , she reminded herself. _Ginny. Ginny. Ginny. Don't make a fuss._

The lobby had black and white marble flooring. It was all heavy wood furniture with light colored walls. Silk curtains. Gilded furnishing and fixtures. Artful, and not at all overdone even as it skirted gaudy.

Posh.

Harri wasn't posh at all. She did not belong here. The dress she was wearing was the softer than a dream, even softer than the nice clothing she had bought at Madame Malkin's. Those had been the clothes of a middle-class girl going to school, not of the Young Miss she was apparently pretending to be.

Riddle had told her that conjured money would be tracked down by the Ministry. If Voldemort used it here it wouldn't be long until someone found them, right? A rescue was coming, even if Sirius failed to convince Remus, Dumbledore, and Snape to trust him.

Voldemort walked casually up to the concierge desk, and in the poshest accent she had ever heard said, "Marvolo Peverell, you'll find my account on file."

If the concierge thought anything odd about the name, he didn't show it. Just typed the name into some sort of fancy computer. Then… he did pause. He looked up sharply at Voldemort.

"Your Grace," he said, sounding in awe. What?

"Indeed. Now I would like the Eugenie Suite for the foreseeable future."

The concierge stumbled. "I'm afraid that the Eugenie Suite is booked sporadically for the next few-"

"Then move them," Voldemort said simply.

The concierge looked around desperately, no doubt for management. But then he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and gathered his composure. "Of course, Your Grace. And your companion's name for the file?" he asked.

"Lady Harriet Peverell," he replied. Lady? Ha. "Baroness Holland," he continued.

What?

"Excellent," said the concierge. "Is your account information up to date? I see it's been near a decade." the concierge asked. Payment method- that was what he was talking about.

"Yes, the same bank," said Voldemort. Seeming quite offended to be speaking of something as gauche as money. So there would be no conjured payment. This was a hiding hole that Voldemort used often. And apparently, he could make up peerages and get away with it.

"Andrews," said the concierge to a footman standing-by. "Take His Grace and Her Ladyship up the Eugenie Suite."

They were escorted to an elevator, operated by staff, and taken up to the second highest floor. They were shown to a set of filigree covered double doors and into a living area. Voldemort even tipped the footman before he left, the doors closing with barely a click.

She looked around dubiously. There was a settee and a plush armchair. A table set for four. A balcony was visible from the silken drapes. Off the small entrance hall was a door, presumably to a bedroom or bathroom. And once inside the living room, she could see another two doors. One was open, showing an extravagant bedroom. Voldemort already had his wand out, slowly walking the perimeter of the room muttering as he went.

She could feel his magic building around her. Building up into wards, she realized. He disappeared into each room, and Harri stood, feeling the growing strength of the magical walls. They didn't feel like they were meant to contain her, which was a surprise. What was their purpose then? If he was worried about the Ministry tracking their magic, wouldn't they already have a read on him? He had conjured their clothes.

She could tell he was finished even though she couldn't see him. It was like the last brick settling into place. The pressure around the room lessened, feeling very balanced. He walked back into the room, looking strangely dapper and almost Muggle in his suit. The type of man Uncle Vernon would have been very impressed by.

Well… this was better than camping in Albania, she thought. Though it was also worse. Tom had felt knowable. While he hadn't made any more advances on her, he had seemed to care in his own strange way. With Voldemort though, she could tell he was lying with every calm gesture and fake smile. A veneer if she had ever seen one. She would think he was lying no matter what, but his very magic broadcasted that it was all fake.

She was tired of the false airs of civility. If she was to be trapped with a Dark Lord she didn't want the soft hand or the genial smiles. No beautiful dresses or the pretense of kindness. It made her so angry.

"You can drop the facade," she spat. "I know that you're pretending."

The genial smile on his face didn't falter at all. "Whatever do you mean, Harriet?"

"I _know_ what you really are," she bit out. "I remember what you were like on the back of Quirrell's head. How you wanted to _use_ me. Don't go pretending. I know what you're like. I can feel that it's all lies."

"And would you prefer that, Harriet?" he asked darkly. His face was still all soft kindness, but his voice suddenly had a much more dangerous quality. She could feel his magic lazily lick across her back.

"I should think that a nice bed and shower would be welcome. Would you prefer that I lock you in a dungeon? Torture you for information? Use and use you until there isn't a single thing left to take?" The cool magic stung her with each word, sharp snaps that almost made her yelp.

Harri glared up at him defiantly. "I want you to let me go. I've done my part. Fulfilled my word. Now release me."

"I think not," he said, sitting elegantly in the armchair. "Why would I give you up? I have you in my power, and there doesn't seem to be a reason for that to change."

"But you owe me," she argued.

A slow smile spread across his face. "And is that what you want for my debt, Harriet? Freedom from the _Captivus Curse_?" A bad bargain she was sure. He wouldn't offer it if it wasn't something he was willing to give up.

When the memory of Tom Riddle had admitted that he owed her a debt, she hadn't thought too much of it. Now though, she wondered how much that debt was worth. She would be bargaining blind.

"No," she said softly, sitting on the settee as elegantly as possible. It would be poor bargaining to ask what he was willing to give. She needed to decide what she wanted from him.

"Why did the concierge call you Your Grace?" she decided to ask. She needed time to think.

"Because I'm the Duke of Albany."

"No you're not," Harri snorted. "That would mean the Queen gave _you_ a peerage."

"Which she did upon my ascension as the Dark Lord."

"You have actual British Rank?" Harri asked in disbelief.

"Yes, you'll find that most pureblood families do. Lucius Malfoy is the Marquess of Hastings. And Dumbledore is the Duke of Clarence. That will be yours when you come into your own. For now, you'll just have to make do being the Baroness Holland."

"I'm not a Baroness. I would know if I were a Baroness"

"The Potter's have held the Barony of Holland since Hardwin Potter; who obtained it with his marriage to Lady Iolanthe Peverell."

"How on Earth do you know that?" she asked in disbelief. "Wait. You called yourself Marvolo Pervell, and me Harriet Peverell. You didn't just make up my name?"

"I made it my business to know my entire family tree, Harriet. You and I are both descended from the Peverell family. Cursed with daughters, so the name eventually died out. I adopted the name when I first gained my peerage. The Barony has been kept in the name Peverell since Iolanthe, as it was originally her family seat."

"We're related?" Harri asked, slightly disgusted if she was being honest. Had she kissed a cousin?

"I believe we are sixth cousins, three times removed. Not what I would call family," he said with a snort. "You're more closely related to the Longbottoms than to me. Your grandmother was Euphemia Longbottom. "

"Did you memorize an entire family tree or something?" Harri asked, aghast.

"I looked at it, so I remember it. It's not difficult, Harriet."

"You have a photographic memory," Harri realized.

"Is that what the muggles call it now?" he asked, seeming genuinely curious. "They just thought I was possessed in the '30s."

They fell silent. Harri stared out the window into the bright daylight. She wanted a shower. She wanted to sleep. Most of all, she wanted to go home. She missed her little room in Snape's quarters. She missed Gulliver. She missed Hermione, Neville, and Ron.

"I want your word that you won't start a war. Or terrorist activities," she said at last. "That's what I want for your debt."

He steadied his gaze on her. "That's quite the limitation, Harriet. And not one I am at liberty to negotiate with you just yet. Armistice negotiations are for the Lord of Light alone."

"Then negotiate with him," Harri snapped. "I don't want a war. I don't want my friends killed just because they're Muggleborn."

"Is that what they teach now? Hogwarts really does just spout Ministry propaganda."

"I don't care," Harri snapped, and the vase on the mantle shook. "I don't care what stupid ideas you think you're fighting for. No more death. That's what I want. No more killings of innocent people."

"Many wars are fought for ideas, Harriet. Mine was fought for power. When I had it, that was when ideas would be implemented."

"My parents died by your wand. You tried to kill me. Neville's parents were tortured into insanity by your followers. Do you hear yourself?"

"When you're older, maybe you'll understand. The end of corruption and change don't come bloodlessly. Radical change needs system overhauls-"

"I'm going to bed," she said standing up and cutting him off. He gripped his wand, and she wondered if he would curse her. That would be satisfying. Then all the facade of civility could be over. It could be a prisoner and her captor. She wanted to rage and destroy everything. To use every ounce of magic she had to punish him. However, it would be making a fuss. Ginny's life was held in the balance of her anger.

"I'll have food sent up in a few hours," his eyes were narrowed, and she could see the hint of anger in them. "Learn some manners while you rest, we will speak later."

* * *

Special thanks to Valen, Goncalvez, ALIASTESIN, potterfanxx, Neredia,Ladymadonna1899, sophiewhettingsteel, FaeTigre, , TomRiddlesTwin, and Guest for reviewing.


	39. Captivus: Padfoot, Moony, and Grangers

Dan and Emma Granger had been proud to find out their daughter was a witch. It was unexpected to be sure, but Hermione had always seemed special. Profess Minerva McGonagall had only confirmed what they already knew.

Hermione wrote often about her friends- Harri, Ron, and Neville. It had been refreshing- and frankly a relief- to see that their daughter was finally making friends. It confirmed that they had made the right decision to send Hermione into the Wizarding World instead of a Stowe.

Then had come the letter about a Troll. About two boys rescuing them, and nary a word from the school that their daughter had been in danger at all. That had raised an eyebrow, but perhaps these things happened at magic school. The danger couldn't have been too real if the school didn't contact them.

Hermione had come home for Christmas with seven heavy books. She had convinced them that her Christmas gift needed to be even _more_ books from Diagon Alley so that she could search for information. That had been difficult to suss out from Hermione, who had finally divulged that there was a Cerberus in the school. And something dark that it was guarding. Hermione, looking more distraught than they had ever seen her, had explained that she _needed_ to find out what the dog was guarding for Harri. Harri was in danger. Her Potions Professor might be trying to kill her.

That garnered more than a raised eyebrow. Dan and Emma had their daughter lead them back to Diagon Alley under the guise of books, and while Dan distracted her in the bookstore, Emma slipped away to the bank to inquire about a solicitor.

Nervous, Emma had walked through the sets of doors into the lobby of the large bank. A bank probably wasn't the best place to start, she had thought, but there wasn't anywhere else they could go. They had paid close attention to the signs in front of each establishment, and none mentioned a law practice. Dan had covertly purchased several books on legislation, under the guise that Hermione might be interested in them later, but they weren't useful in explaining their own paternal rights. There was a Ministry of Magic, but for the life of them they couldn't figure out how to find it. It was only with Hermione's help, taking them by the hand to guide them, that they were able to go to Diagon Alley at all.

Emma approached the Goblin at the currency exchange desk, if only because they had to be the most familiar with Muggles, and asked, "Excuse me, but would it be possible to speak to a public relations liaison?"

The Goblin had smiled, a sharp toothy grin, and had replied, "All Goblins at this bank are qualified to act as a public face."

"Well then," Emma had replied, wringing her hands nervously, "I have quite a few questions about Muggle legal rights according to the Ministry. As I understand it from "Guidelines for the Treatment of Non-Wizard-Part-Humans," Goblins must have some form of legal counsel. Would it be possible to speak to one such representative? Or to receive a recommendation of someone to meet with. I would gladly compensate you for your time."

The Goblin evaluated her with steely eyes. It was a mean looking creature, but Emma met his eyes without flinching. She had read about Goblins from one of Hermione's history books. Her daughter had bought so many that there had to be forty books stored in her bedroom while she was at school. Emma didn't blame her for the excess, she had her husband had been consuming as much information as they could. There had been no further explanations from the school; just silence. If they were ever going to understand this secret world they needed to know their rights first and foremost. They had read about memory modifying charms, muggle baiting, and a war that was only a decade removed. It didn't seem like a safe place for their too bright daughter.

Goblins had different views of morality than humans did. They believed in bargains, in keeping to your word, and compensation for work, time, and information. That in mind, she slid a 20-pound note across the counter.

"Not here," the goblin sneered. "Our representatives are for Goblin Law alone." Emma almost opened her mouth to argue but held her tongue. Goblins, apparently, often tried to offend so they wouldn't have to work with humans. If a human acted rudely to a Goblin, that was the end of the transaction.

The Goblin raised a scaly brow. "But," he said at last, "I suppose you could contact Amelia Bones. She is known to be fair in cases involving Muggles."

That seeming to be that, Emma slid another twenty-pound note across the counter and turned to leave the bank.

...

Emma and Dan Granger purchased an owl, partially so they could write their daughter and partially so they could get in contact with Amelia Bones. What had followed was an illuminating correspondence on what rights the Grangers had over their daughter in the eyes of wizarding law: None.

Hermione came home that summer with a story she didn't want to share. It took several cups of tea and gentle prying for Hermione to finally break down. She looked down at her hands while describing a series of events that were beyond the pale.

A trip to a forest where unicorns were being killed for their blood. A three-headed dog that was guarding something. Four children putting themselves at risk because the adults had decided to use platitudes instead of explanations.

"We found out that it would have been safe the whole time," Hermione had whispered. "It turns out the mirror to guard the stone would only give it to someone if they didn't want to use it. But no one told us…" she trailed off. "It felt like the adults were just ignoring us. We had proof that someone was going to go after it, but no one listened to us. No one explained anything."

So their daughter, their fearless wild-haired girl, had put a Cerebrus to sleep like Orpheus, and challenged the forces of evil. There had been a deadly plant, a killer chess board, and poison to contend with along with a Dark Lord. Their Hermione had stood by her friends. She had watched one get knocked out, and one walk through fire to her certain death.

They quietly wrote to Amelia Bones, and the school didn't say a thing.

They sent Hermione off for her second year with forced smiles and clenched fists. A part of Emma felt like they were sending their daughter to her death. She had a feeling, deep in her bones that couldn't be explained, that something very bad was going to happen.

She felt powerless. Amelia Bones had been frank about what happened to Muggles who tried to keep their children home. They were obliviated of their concerns. After the third obliviation- if the Muggle's persisted in being a problem- the child would be taken away. " _Mind you, this isn't because the magic wouldn't work and the Squad couldn't continue to alter Muggle minds. It's simply after a certain amount of mind magic one's personality and ability to function starts to falter. It is believed that after enough mind magic the Muggle parent would be a danger to their child and the safer option is to remove them completely."_

Every week she waited for word from Hermione. For the first few months, everything seemed fine. Then Hermione stopped responding. Their letters came back unopened. They wrote to the school, only to receive a platitude about Hermione being a bit ill in the hospital wing. " _She'll be put to rights soon,"_ came the looping words of Albus Dumbledore.

Emma simmered.

She wrote to Amelia Bones and asked for a meeting. There wasn't much to be done, but Amelia Bones wrote to her niece, Susan, and found out that Hermione had been in the Hospital Wing for the last several months. There was something at the school attacking Muggleborns, according to Susan. The Chamber of Secrets had been opened.

Amelia Bones had assured them that she would find out more, and requested that Hermione be sent to St. Mungos where the Grangers could have access to her.

"I don't want her at that school," Dan had insisted to Bones when Amelia had met with them to show the denied request St. Mungos had received from Hogwarts. _"On the grounds of patient stability, the lack of immediate danger to the patient at Hogwarts, and the imminent cure that will be available at Hogwarts before St. Mungos."_

Amelia pursed her lips, "I don't blame you, but at the moment the law isn't in your favor. I'm hoping to be up for the head position once Knott retires next year. I promise you both that I will be pushing reforms to help your position. It will be slow moving. The Old Gaurd doesn't trust Muggles."

"How does it work then?" Emma asked. "Is your government different than our version?"

"The Departments propose legislature, but the Wizengamoat has to vote them into law. The Chief Warlock or the Minister has to call a vote. Dumbledore won't be hard to worth with I don't think…" Amelia Bones trailed off. "But, and here is the hard part, Legislation has to pass at a two-thirds majority. The Wizengamot has twenty-five Legacy Seats and twenty-five Elected Seats."

"And let me guess," Dan said, "The Legacy Seats are for old Pureblood families who will not vote in favor of Muggle Reforms."

"I wouldn't say that," said Amelia. "My family, not the Bones but the Olivanders, have a Legacy Seat. So do the Prewetts, the Longbottoms, the Abbotts. Kingsley Shacklebolt is the good sort. Arthur Weasley has a seat, but it's been tied up since that feud the Blacks started when old Septimus Weasley married Cedrella Black. And three of the legacy seat holders are in Azkaban. Lestrange, Travers, and Black. With Dumbledore, there would be enough of us to stand up to Old Gaurd. It's just the elected seats are all rather cooked. A lot of money gets spent to ensure those seats stay with folks of the 'right' frame of mind."

"Election fraud?" Emma asked, unsurprised at this point.

"Nothing that can be proved by the Auror Department," said Amelia with a grimace. "If Fudge would just stand up to Malfoy… but he won't. He's too deep in Malfoy's pocket."

Dan and Emma Granger didn't trust that anything would be done, despite Amelia Bone's best effort. The fact of the matter was that they needed influence and power in the Ministry if they had any hope of pushing for real reform. They were Muggles. They were vulnerable. Their daughter being removed from their custody -their very minds!- was the threat hanging over their heads.

The Grangers had been proud to have a witch for a daughter. Proud, but they feared for her now. Holding her in their arms again at King's Cross, safe and alive, had been more than they could have hoped for.

But what fresh hell awaited her next school term?

* * *

Sirius could hear voices talking on the lower level of the house. The girl's, Hermione's, parents must be home.

He was itching with the need for action but was holding himself back. It wouldn't do to scare her parents. Sirius could very well go straight to Remus and attempt to explain, but with no Peter, it was very unlikely Remus would listen. He had had over a decade to stew on the betrayal. Bygones wouldn't be bygones. This girl- Hermione, he reminded himself again- believed in Harri. She was the best entry point he could hope for with Remus. Someone to go in first and _explain_. Worst case, Remus would prioritize using Sirius to find Harri again. Who knew where she was now. Was she still in Albania? Had they moved?

Blacks had always been able to feel the movement of magic around them. Like an itch on the skin. Some felt it too deeply (take his mad cousin Bellatrix) and others hardly at all (Cissy had never shown the signs). But Sirius, Sirius had always felt the itch in a mild and pleasant sort of way. The wrong sort of itch in his family's eyes. The feel and movement of light magic had always appealed to the Black Sheep of the Black Family. Something was happening now. He felt it crawling on his skin. It was Dumbledore, but he was certain that it was Harriet too.

Litha was approaching, and he had gooseflesh.

There was a soft knock on the door in the spare room Hermione had sent him to hide in.

"It will be easier to explain you if they don't see you the moment they walk in," the girl had said, pushing him up the stairs. It was the logic of a child, but he would let her call the shots here. Respect her boundaries and requests. The more comfortable Hermione was, the more comfortable her parents would be with her galavanting off with him.

It was not Hermione who entered the room, but her parents.

The man stood partially in front of his wife. There was a tightness to his shoulders, and Sirius knew that if he made one wrong move the man would tackle him. Muggles could be so brave.

He had cleaned himself up in the washroom. No magic or the Ministry would come running. He had found scissors and hacked off most of the bedraggled hair. A shower had done wonders for getting off the grime. Hermione had supplied some of her father's clothes; a jumper and joggers. They hung off him loosely. There wasn't anything that could be done about his teeth or the gaunt look. The teeth needed magic to set right again. His ghoulish frame needed food. His skin needed sun.

 _'Once the best looking bloke at Hogwarts,'_ he had thought, letting his Black vanity surface for a moment.

The intake of breath that the Grangers let out when they saw him let him know that a haircut, bath, and new clothes hadn't done much to make him look less like a walking skeleton.

"Hello," he said, his voice one of the few things unchanged about him now that it was used to speaking again. "Sirius Black."

"Dan and Emma Granger," said Hermione's father stiffly.

"Our daughter tells us that her friend Harri sent you," said Emma Granger accusingly.

"Yes. Harriet is my Goddaughter. She's in trouble, and I need Hermione's help to get her out of it."

"What has my daughter got to do with that? Harri may be her friend, but they're both just children," Emma said. "We've seen you on the news. You're an escaped convict! We should be altering Amelia Bones with the Department of Law Enforcement." The fact that they hadn't was intensely relieving.

"That was a crime I didn't commit. I was framed. Never given a trial." The more often he said it, the more he wanted to shout it to the word. The injustice had simmered beneath the surface for a decade, but now it was a full boil.

Dan Granger nodded. "From what we've seen of your justice system that's not surprising." Granger's shoulders relaxed. "Please explain why Harri sent you to our daughter instead of someone else. Hermione is convinced that she's the only one that can explain you to- Remus Lupin, was it?"

"Remus was a good friend of mine in school," Black began. "There were four of us. James, Remus, and Peter Pettigrew. When the Potters had to go underground to hide from the Dark Lord they used a spell that could hide them."

"A spell that could hide them? What does that mean? How does it work?" the woman asked, eyes narrowing. Her husband placed a hand on her wrist, for which Black was grateful. These Granger women asked a lot of questions.

"It's complicated," Sirius explained. "That isn't to disrespect you, it's just tricky magic. The idea is that you have a secret. And someone hides that secret inside their head. Where someone lives, for example. The address disappears from everyone else's' minds. It can only come back if the Secret-Keeper tells them the secret. We told everyone that I was the Secret Keeper for the Potters. We thought it would make a good distraction. The Dark Lord would focus on me."

"It wasn't you," Emma Granger said, nodding. "You wanted to throw them off so you chose someone else."

"Yes. Peter. When I came to the house and saw all the wreckage…. Well, Hagrid was there and was taking Harriet from the ruble. I asked for her… and would that he had given her to me. I wouldn't have rushed after Peter."

"But you did, and thirteen people died," said Hermione's father.

"That's true. Maybe they wouldn't have if Peter hadn't felt threated. There he was, shouting "How could you Sirius, Lily and James". He cut off his finger, cast a blasting curse that killed all those people, turned into a rat, and ran into the sewer he had exposed under the street. London is covered with runes to track magic usage in the Muggle areas. The Obliviation Squad and the Aurors arrived before I could blink. I'll be honest, I didn't act innocent in the moment. I was in shock. Lily and James were dead, Peter had gotten away and framed me for a crime, and all I should do was laugh."

"And Remus Lupin… he wouldn't listen to you explain this?" Hermione's mother asked.

"No. He'd cast first and ask questions later. It's what I'd do if I saw Peter or thought Remus had been the traitor. But if Hermione were to go in first, before Remus had even seen me, showed him the letter and _explained…_ well, I think he could tell Dumbledore and Snape that I can help… Harri is with a very bad man right now. She can't leave or another girl will die. Dumbledore has to negotiate with the Dark Lord for her freedom. Dumbledore wouldn't listen to me if I found him. He will listen to Remus. He might even listen to your daughter. Smartest witch of her age, according to Harriet."

Hermione's parents looked at him speculatively. Then at each other. They had a silent communication that only comes from years of marriage.

"We have a condition," Emma Granger declared. "I don't know if you're telling the truth, but Hermione says that you made a magical vow. Maybe that matters, maybe it doesn't. I've no way to test it. But we trust Hermione on what this magic means. I suppose we have to trust you too, for now. It's clear what you need, Mr. Black. You need a lawyer and a trial."

He raised an eyebrow, waiting for the condition.

"You will perform the secret-magic on this house so that other wizards cannot find it. You will show Hermione how to do it. She will be the holder of that secret."

He would need to find the runes that the Ministry had placed in the area and destroy them, but a Black could follow the itch of magic. It wouldn't take too long.

"After which, you will stay here while Hermione goes to the location of Remus Lupin. You will let us be in possession of your wand and stay in this room while our daughter is gone. In return, we will contact our lawyer, Amelia Bones, to see about how to get you a trial." Emma Granger saw Sirius open his mouth, but clarified, "Once you have gone off with Lupin to find your Goddaughter, that is. Ameilia has explained to us about these Legacy Seats in the Ministry." He almost wanted to laugh. Muggles who knew about Wizarding Law, who would have thought.

Dan Granger continued where his wife had left off. "What we want from you, Mr. Black, is reform in the Ministry. We want the Weasley seat restored and the Black seat fighting for Muggle rights."

Sirius Black let out a bark of laughter. These were his kind of Muggles, yes indeed. "If I could, I'd agree to it all. But, Hermione won't be able to get to Remus without me. You don't have a floo. It's apparition or nothing."

Dan an Emma Granger eyed him wearily. He didn't envy them their position. They had no control over the situation and no reason to trust him.

"Mum, Dad," came the voice of Hermione from the doorway. All three adults jumped. "Mr. Black really did make a magical vow that he's trying to help Harri. He won't break that vow. You can trust him."

"But how can you be sure?" asked her mother, looking for the first time like she was about to cry. In anger, fear, or frustration Sirius didn't know.

"Because there once was a woman named Dorcas Meadows," said Hermione, looking Sirius straight in the eye. "She's dead now because of people like the Dark Lord. You know about this," she said gesturing to her silver mark cover. "You know what an utter pounce Draco is. His father set that monster on the school to kill _me_. He didn't go to jail. He just bribed a few people and got off scot-free. Well, Dorcas Meadows was like me, mum. She was a muggle-born with a pureblood soulmate. Her family got killed."

Emma Granger covered her mouth and started to shake her head.

"Mum, you've been doing all this secretly? Talking to a lawyer, trying to push Muggle rights?" Hermione asked, looking at her mother with pure adoration.

"Of course we have, Hermione," her father said. "We've been so worried about you."

Hermione nodded, looking like her face about to break. "You're the best parents. But if we want to make sure that there are no more Dorcas Meadows in this world, families murdered by virtue of being Muggle, we need him. We have to trust him. We can't become just another statistic of bigotry and intolerance. I refuse."

Sirius looked on at the small family and thought of his own. His hateful mother, absent father, and Regulas… well, Regulus was a sore spot that would never go away for Sirius. The Grangers loved each other in a way that his parents had never loved him. They were fighters. Bloody brilliant, all three.

Harriet had some damned good taste in friends.

* * *

Hermione knocked on the cabin door. June 23rd was a waxing crescent moon. It was morning. This was fine. There was no werewolf at the door, only a man. It was a Wednesday, he might not even be home. Which was bad. She wanted the werewolf to answer the door, even if she felt apprehensive.

The door opened. He was wearing an extremely shabby set of wizard's robes that had been darned in several places. He looked ill and exhausted. Though quite young, his light brown hair was flecked with grey.

"Yes?" he asked, looking very surprised to see a young girl at his door.

"M-Mr. Lupin?" Hermione squeaked out.

"Yes," he repeated. "Can I help you?"

"M-My name is Hermione. I'm a friend of Harri's. I've come for your help." She held out the letter Harri had sent her.

Harri's name caused an instant reaction. He snatched the piece of parchment and read through quickly. His face darkened as he read. Without any warning, he pulled Hermione into the cabin, slammed the door, and whipped out his wand. He cast a ward on the door that she had read about in an advanced defense text.

"You can't trust a thing that man says," Lupin said sharply. "Where is he hiding? I'll take care of him."

Hermione shook her head. "No. No. Listen to me. Please. That ward would hold him he tried to get in. Please." Lupin's grip tightened on his wand, knuckles white.

"He's escaping right now," Lupin growled, but he didn't make a move for the door. Old loyalty, perhaps?

"Peter Pettigrew was the Secret Keeper!" Hermione blurted out.

Lupin went supernaturally still. His eyes were yellow, like a wolfs. Had they been that color before? Hermione worked hard to keep her voice steady but felt all too much like a thirteen-year-old in over her head.

"Peter Pettigrew betrayed Lily and James Potter. Not Sirius Black."

Was it only a beat? Several minutes? She couldn't tell. Remus Lupin was so still that he didn't look like he was breathing. Hermione felt herself slip into the strange stiffness petrification had given her in response. Her mind whirled. What to do if he didn't believe her?

"Do you have any proof?" Lupin asked at last. Hermione took a deep breath and forced herself to blink.

"He said that Peter Pettigrew cut off his finger and disappeared as a rat down a sewer after blowing up the street," Hermione said. "How can be there any real proof? You know his character, you know Peter's. I suppose you'd need to be the judge. All I can say is that he swore to me that he was trying to save Harri. Swore on his magic."

"They switched… without telling me?" he whispered to himself, running a hand through his hair.

Hermione forced herself to fidget every few seconds. It was too easy to go stiff under stress. Did Lupin find this plausible? Did it matter so long as the end result was Harri free and the Dark Lord kept from life?

"Sirius is her godfather. He can find her, no matter what." Remus whispered to himself. "He broke out as soon as Harri was taken… Would he do that just for the Dark Lord? His magic never was like mine, it never made sense… but If Harri is beholden to the Dark Lord under the Captivus Curse, only Dumbledore, Snape, or Sirius could negotiate for her release. Sirius and Snape for the curse itself and Dumbledore for her physical self…." he trailed off again, mind working fast. His body was strangely frozen, like a predator who has sighted prey. He did not blink as he muttered to himself.

"Dumbledore won't believe Black without me," Remus said, finally meeting Hermione's gaze, blinking at last. He was instantly more human. "Lily and James told him, told us all, that Black was the secret keeper. Even if I told Black's side… we need the rat. But I suppose we don't have that. There isn't a thing backing up Sirius' case."

A rat. Peter Pettigrew with a missing finger. Hermione could feel the strings of magic on the subject of Peter Pettigrew. Her mind was chewing, she just didn't' know on _what_ yet. There was something missing… something about a missing finger.

"The Dark Lord has Harri," Hermione said firmly. "Black can find her. Does the rest matter?"

"No," Lupin agreed. "I suppose it doesn't."

Turning, he took the ward off the door and opened it.

* * *

Thanks to AlternateInverse, SkyeMoor, Hawkie81, nintschibintschi, sophiewhettingsteel, ALIASTESIN, eyesopened, .Addiction.1738, Valen Goncalvez, Neredia, and TomRiddlesTwin for reviewing over the last week! Your comments were very kind.

On a story note, I'm really not trying to make a Dumbledore bashing fic. He's not evil, just a flawed person who is neglecting the muggle side of this story.

Next post is Friday (7/5), and I'm hoping either this coming Monday (7/1) or the Monday after (7/8) to post a Marauder Era One-Shot set in the same universe.


	40. Captivus: Negotiations

It probably wasn't ethical to say that being a prisoner of the Dark Lord was boring. Harri felt guilty for even thinking it. Albania had been terrifying, and that had been with the memory of a Dark Lord. Living with the real thing in the middle of Muggle London should prevent Harri from sleeping. Should keep her jumping at every sound.

It wasn't like that.

That had arrived at the hotel on the 24th, on Litha. It had been a quiet weekend, and now it was Monday, June 28th. Harri knew because she could read the paper each morning with breakfast, either in her room or down in one of the three restaurants the hotel boasted. Voldemort had given her free reign to wander around the hotel but had specifically told her that she wasn't to leave the hotel or preform magic outside of their rooms. The wards he had placed prevented the Ministry from picking up magic performed inside their suite.

Voldemort wasn't hard to live with. He was had interesting things to say, was courteous and answered any questions Harri had. He smiled, and even laughed, when Harri was being purposefully difficult. It was fake. She could feel it. He wasn't nice and he wasn't someone who was easy to live with. He was a monster trying to hide his claws. Yet, despite trying her best to stay alert, Harri knew she was being lulled into a false sense of security. Into bored complacency.

Harri kept Tom Riddle's original demand in the front of her mind. She had written it down again and again so she was sure to keep it straight. "You must swear on your magic that you won't make a fuss. You'll come with me without complaint. You won't run away. You'll stay with me until I release you. If you do that, I will let Ginny Weasley live."

"You won't make a fuss," was the hardest one to suss the meaning out of. It appeared that Voldemort liked it when she made a little bit of a fuss. There was something in his expression, in the way his magic reacted, that let Harri know that he was enjoying it. But when she went too far… well, she felt that in his magic too. Felt it in the way her magic stiffened and made clear that she had found the line of where she was no longer amusing to him, but an annoyance.

Voldemort had spent the last several days writing letters. He went out at night, but was always back in their rooms by morning. He made use of the hotel pool and gym, ate food with clear pleasure, and wore clothing that looked expensive. He reminded her of a Dragon making his home in a hoard, like Smaug.

When she came out of her room the morning of the 28th it was to a sight that made her freeze. Severus Snape was sitting at the breakfast table, speaking calmly to Voldemort. They were chatting like two old friends. Harri's hands curled into fists.

"What are you doing here?" she snapped, announcing her presence.

Snape and Voldemort looked over to her like she was the one being odd. Like she should find it normal to have her guardian and kidnapper chatting like old chums.

Snape raised an eyebrow. "To take you home, of course," was his casual reply. It was a relief to hear, but it felt wrong. Snape wasn't going to just take her home. That wasn't how this worked. Voldemort was not going to let her go for nothing.

"Now, Severus," said Voldemort cooly, "We haven't reached that part of the negotiation. That is for Dumbledore."

Snape's lips thinned. "Yes, you are correct of course, My Lord."

What? What had happened to 'I have no master?' down in the Chamber. Why was Snape acting like the servant of Lord Voldemort? Was he… had he gone back to the Dark Side? Was he serving the Dark Lord again? After all that talk of her _mother._ Had he ever stopped serving Voldemort? Her mind was a whir.

"You _traitor_ ," Harri snarled. "You liar. You were with him all along?"

"Now, Harriet. None of that. You don't want to be making a fuss, do you?" Voldemort asked softly. Her spine stiffened and she wanted to run back into her room and slam the door.

"Come, sit and eat," Snape told her, "You look too thin," he said pointedly to Voldemort.

Harri walked stiffly to the table, seething. Snape had lied. Two years had been a lie. He had never stopped serving the Dark. Had he never really cared for her?

Harri slumped gracelessly into the chair and glared at them both. She stayed silent, waiting for someone else to speak first. If she had learned anything from her month with Tom it was that silence got to Voldemort quickly. He liked the sound of his own voice.

"Well, Harriet," Voldemort said, buttering his muffin. "Severus and I have come to terms over your release from the arrangement we made down in the Chamber. Things will be a little less comfortable for you here until Dumbledore and I come to an agreement, but I doubt it will take longer. You'll be back at Hogwarts before the end of the week, I should think."

"What… what do you mean?" Harri asked. "Why do you need to come to terms with Snape and Dumbledore."

"You are still a minor. A guardian can negotiate your release from _Captivus_ ," Snape explained.

"But not your release from my custody," Voldemort continued. "As a magical person of the _Light_ , only Dumbeldore can negotiate your release from my care."

Dumbledore and Snape were both having to negotiate? That didn't seem fair. Then again, none of it did. Was Snape here because Voldemort had summoned him? Or had Snape found them through Sirius?

"Is Sirius…?" Harri trailed off.

"Miss. Granger and Mr. Lupin were able to tell us your location, rather miraculously," Snape told her, dark eyes glinting. "Albus has kept the source of their knowledge to himself. But it was clear to me whom dear old Lupin must have been speaking with." His voice snapped with anger. Clearly, there were no bygones. She was glad she hadn't sent Black to Snape after all. It would have been a duel.

"Yes," Voldemort added in, narrowing those red eyes. "Imagine my surprise when Severus here knocked on our door this morning."

"I know you prefer to summon, and not intruded upon by your followers, My Lord," Snape said, trying to cut the tension. Voldemort didn't take his eyes off Harri. "My ward is my responsibility, it has been my duty to find her."

Voldemort ignored Snape. "Just how did you get information to Sirius Black, Harriet?" he asked her silkily.

"I didn't make a fuss. I didn't run away. I didn't complain," Harri told him. "I've kept my word." Snape had given her an Occlumency book two years ago to help her manage her wayward magic. Never one to have a clear mind, Harri tried to simply to focus on the truth of her statement.

"Thankfully, it isn't a sixteen-year-old making the agreement this time," Voldemort said darkly. "Our deal in the Chamber would have been worded very differently… but we cannot change the past. Only affect the future. To that end, Harriet," Voldemort picked up a blank piece of parchment sitting beside him on the table. "If you could imbue this with your magic, Severus and I can finalize our agreement."

Harri dropped the cup of tea she had been picking up to drink. The tea spilled, staining the lace tablecloth.

"No."

Immediately she felt Voldemort's magic slide around her, taut with anger. "This isn't a yes or a no, Harriet."

She shook her head. "No. No. No. I'm not a part of this. Black explained how that spell worked. You're not tricking me!"

"Who said anything about a trick, Harriet?" Voldemort asked. "The terms of your release need to be sealed appropriately. Severus would break an Unbreakable Vow, wouldn't you, Severus? He'd happily give up his magic. No, death and magic don't mean much to Severus Snape," Voldemort chucked, and it was cold enough to make the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. "You, on the other hand, mean quite a lot. The Severus I knew would never rush into the Chamber of Secrets or be able to wield the Sword of Gryffindor. Oh no. But for _you_ , he did. Severus Snape will do whatever I ask of him if it's _your life_ that's caught in the balance."

A chill went down her spine, and Harri looked at Snape with horror. He'd bargained with her life? What were the terms of this agreement that Snape would rather die than fulfill them? Snape wouldn't meet her gaze.

"I won't ask again, Harriet. Imbue this with your magic and then go to your room. The adults are negotiating, and you don't have a place at this table just yet."

It wasn't hard to put her magic into the parchment. Three deep breaths and concentration was all that it took.

She held it out for Snape to take. If he was going to gamble with her life she deserved eye contact. He deserved to see how angry she was that he was using that vile _Captivus Curse_. He met her gaze, and she didn't see a hint of remorse. She flung the paper at him, stood, and stalked back to her room.

At least she could be as much of a bother as she wanted once they signed. She wouldn't need to care whether or not she was making a fuss. Harri Potter could be the biggest damn headache Voldemort had ever met. He would deserve it.

She tried to listen at the door, but all she heard a faint buzzing sound. There would be no knowing what the terms of this agreement were.

Anger filled her, but for once her magic didn't start to riot around the room. Well, that wouldn't do, because she needed something to break. She grabbed a lamp and hurled it across the room, shattering it.

Harri stared at the broken shards on the ground. Sometimes she felt like it would be better for it all to end. The world would be better without her in it. These games of high magic- between good and evil, dark and light- they could just be over.

A belated sob escaped and she threw herself on top of the bed and started punching the pillows. Snape, Dumbledore, Voldemort- they were betting her life. How _dare_ Snape sign an agreement where her life hung in the balance. When Harri had agreed to let him be her guardian she had never dreamed of this kind of betrayal. None of it made sense. Voldemort wanted her to live, didn't he? That had been Dumbledore's argument the whole time. That Voldemort wouldn't participate in the rituals because Harri wasn't there.

These marks on her wrist were supposed to guarantee that Voldemort valued her. The Tom Riddle of the diary had seemed fixated on her in a way that had been disturbing. Why wasn't this version? Why was Voldemort willing to gamble with her life?

She wished Hermione were here. Hermione would understand. Or if she didn't… at least Hermione would hold her. Sometimes Harri felt angry that Hermione had trusted Draco Malfoy instead of coming to her, but Harri had come to a small amount of peace about it. Hermione hadn't told Malfoy she was a parselmouth. Hermione had tried to find proof quietly. Hermione wouldn't have exposed Harri in front of the entire school.

Harri hadn't spoken to Hermione for seven months now, and she really missed her best friend.

* * *

Voldemort casually summoned her ward when he opened the door to her room at last.

"No magic, Harriet. Can't have you running off now," he said with a smirk.

"Whatever," she said, glaring, sitting up on her bed. "Let me guess what else you're going to do. You're locking the door when you're gone. You're silencing the room so that I can't shout for help. The windows will be locked. And here I'll stay, till Dumbledore agrees to God knows what."

"Essentially. A few more wards to stop any pesky Godfathers from wandering in," he added with a horrid smile that made her skin crawl.

The comforter bunched in her hands. "How long until I can leave?" she asked.

"Soon enough. My agreement with Dumbledore won't cause you much pain, Harriet. Though it is an agreement I expect you to take part in."

"I'm not agreeing to another _Captivus_ ," she spat, and it was satisfying to not have her magic warn against rudeness. The confirmation of her release was sweet.

"No, this will be more along the lines of both parties agreeing to certain terms. A peace treaty. Armistice." He flicked his wand and the lamp she had smashed mended and flew back onto the bedside table.

"What terms?" Harri asked hesitantly.

"The terms I have sent with Severus to give Dumbledore are as follows," Voldemort began, sitting on the bed next to her. "In exchange for silence on the subject of my return and identity, for your physical return to Dumbledore, and for you to attend the next eight magical rites, I will refrain from starting a war. I will order any followers I contact to refrain from killing in my name or the name of the Dark."

It was what Harri had wanted. No war. What did that mean, though, to remain silent on his return? Snape knew. So did Remus, Hermione, and Dumbledore. She didn't know who else.

"What are we supposed to tell people then?" Harri asked at last. "Everyone knows that I was kidnapped."

"By a troublesome spirit that Dumbledore and Severus Snape dispatched. The Dark Lord Voldemort is finally no more," Voldemort said in complete seriousness.

"You want us to lie to the entire wizarding world so they won't be prepared for you to attack? You want the deal to be that we can't say it's you unless you start a war!" Harri accused.

"Oh, no. I'm planning to go quite a different way," Voldemort said. "With Voldemort dead, I can simply take on a new identity. One that isn't burdened with all this Wizarding War nonsense."

"Nonsense!" Harri exclaimed in anger, "It was your war! You started it!"

"And now it is over, just like you asked. Aren't you grateful, Harriet?"

Not a bit. The smug, horrible, monster!

"A new identity…" Harri trailed off as she spoke. "You want us to say that Voldemort is dead so that you can claim to be the new Dark Lord."

"Very good, Harriet."

"Dumbledore won't agree to that," Harri announced. "He'll say no. There is no way he'll set you loose on the Wizarding World."

"You'd be surprised what Dumbledore would agree to if it means stopping a war. Right and Wrong have never meant much to Albus, so long as his aims are in service to the Greater Good. You should learn that now, Harriet."

"You're wrong," said Harri with conviction. There was a whisper in the back of her mind that maybe it was Harri who was wrong. She didn't really know Dumbledore, she could count the number of conversations they had had on two hands.

"Not often, and not now," Voldemort replied, standing and taking his leave.

* * *

Things were 'less comfortable' after Snape's negotiation.

If Harri had been bored before, she was jumping off the wall now. There was nothing to do. Voldemort left her books to read, and there was a tele in her room, but otherwise, it was very dull. Voldemort left during the day now too, and Harri couldn't leave the room at all when he was gone. Voldemort was wrong that she would be free by Friday, it was a full week before Voldemort finally announced that he and Dumbledore had come to terms.

"It's well enough," Voldemort said with too much cheer on the 5th of July. He poured her tea and handed her the cup. She barely looked up from the book she was reading on Advanced Runes. Harri had gone from throwing everything she could find at Voldemort (several full-body binds had resulted), to screaming at him that she demanded to be let go (several painful lashes of magic and a silencing charm), and was now onto ignoring him. He might want to play house and pretend that they were cordial friends, but they weren't.

"Don't you want to know the terms of your release?" he asked with that smug smile. She wanted to throw the hot tea at his too-perfect face.

"Fine," she said, closing the book.

"Ask with manners, Harriet," Voldemort said softly. When he spoke like that she knew it was better to listen. If she made too much of a fuss he would cast a spell to make her uncomfortable. A heating spell to make her feel like she was in the middle of a desert. A cooling spell that made her gave her violent chills and felt like she was going numb all over. The worst was the spell he had used one to make her deaf and unable to feel anything, like she was locked in a soundproofed room. Harr had felt as if she were going mad. Thankfully her own magic would absorb his spells after too long, but an hour was enough to make her reluctant to fight too much more. That had been the end of any throwing or screaming.

"Would you please tell me the terms of the agreement," Harri said with false sweetness. If he noticed the tone, he didn't say anything.

"I have agreed to release you physically and to publicly call for the end of the rift between Dark and Light. No war and no Muggle-Baiting. Dumbledore and I will give a joint speech where he will introduce me as the new Dark Lord."

"And in exchange?" Harri asked softly.

"You will attend the next four magical rites. You and Dumbledore will both publicly declare that Lord Voldemort was defeated. You will _never_ reveal my identity as the Dark Lord Voldemort or Tom Riddle."

"And if I did want to let the whole world know who you really are?" she asked, teacup shaking in her hand.

"Let me assure you, Harri, if you do I will kill every Muggle that I can find."

She clenched her jaw to stop herself from speaking right away. More secrets. No telling Hermione, Ron, and Neville. Well, that was fine. They would be happier not knowing the truth.

"Fine," she said. "Wonderful. No more killing was what I asked from you."

"It is. Which means I have done as you requested, Harriet. In exchange for my debt." His voice was soft and silky, and he looked like the cat who had gotten the canary. She felt a tug on her magic, and could feel words bubbling up instinctively like they had while looking at her parents' statues in Godric's Hallow.

"So long as you continue to negotiate with Dumbledore in good faith, I release you from your debt," she said softly.

"Excellent," Voldemort said, looking far too pleased. For the life of her, Harri couldn't figure out why.

* * *

Thanks to SkyeMoor, YoChicken, Scarletpixiern, sophiewhettingsteel, Neredia, Hawkie81, and Trainer Fiona for reviewing this week. I'm glad the Granger parents played well with y'all :)

Planning to update on 7/12


	41. Captivus: Summer Freedom

When Harri woke the next morning she went about her usual routine. She was hopeful that today would be the day of her official release. Voldemort had laid out the terms of his deal with Dumbledore the night before, so there was no reason to delay.

Harri made the bed, a long-standing habit from chores at the Dursleys, and showered. Without her wand, Harri couldn't do any of the charms that she had learned from Lavender and Parvati to handle her hair, so she french braided it after using the blow dryer.

She dressed in one of the dresses Voldemort had conjured for her. All of them had an air of something from the 1950s. This one was yellow with a floral pattern and had become one of her favorites. The only one she hadn't worn was a pale pink number. Harri knew from Parvati that she wasn't a spring, and to avoid pinks.

"You're definitely a fall, Harri," Parvati had explained, looking at Harri's inner wrist. "You tan well enough, and with your hair! Well, you've done well with navy and green. But I think you should add warmer colors to your wardrobe. The Gryffidnor scarlet might be too bright, but I think more corals and golds would flatter you."

"Are you a fall too?" Harri had asked Parvati. She had a warmer skin tone.

"No. I'm a summer. Since there isn't much color contrast between my eyes, skin, and hair I can wear more cool toned pastels without getting washed out."

Looking in the mirror at her braided hair and pretty dress, Harri felt a dissociation between who she really was and who she was presenting. She was no lady. She was just Harri, and that was all she had ever wanted to be. Harri thought with some longing of Yggdrasil and the calmness she had felt being near the tree.

Maybe she could go back? Get more answers? Some advice? Everything felt muddled since she had seen Snape at the table with Voldemort. She had gone over the scene again and again. Had Snape been pretending the whole time? Did he not… did he not care for her? He must! He had gone down into the Chamber for her. He had slain a Basilisk and told her to run while on death's door.

Was it an act for Voldemort? Was Snape pretending to be the loyal servant once again because he was trying to protect Harri? It didn't feel like he was protecting her if he signed the parchment she had imbued with her magic, agreeing to the Captivus Curse. Both Voldemort and Snape were being mighty cavalier with her life.

At the moment it didn't seem like anyone had her best interests in mind, which wasn't new. It was simply that… when Snape had held her while she sobbed at the Mirror of Erised it had meant something. When he had been worried after her fight with Quirrell she had felt cared about. All last year Snape had been struggling with being her guardian, but he had always been there. Had always seemed like he _wanted the best for her_.

He got it wrong often enough, he would snap or get caught up in his work. In those moments was that the real Snape showing through? In the end, did Snape care more about the Dark Lord and power than he did about Harri?

Was Harri just a means to an end?

She wouldn't know until they spoke, and Harri didn't know what she should say. It was all so confusing, and she partly wanted to forget that any of it was happening. Pretend that life was normal and there wasn't a Dark Lord or Light Lord.

That wasn't the life Harri was getting through. What she was getting was a pretty young girl in a yellow dress and braided hair who looked like she had never worked a day in her life. It was the girl Harri had longed to be two years ago, but it was all an illusion. Inside she would always be the girl who lived in a cupboard, and it wouldn't matter how many pretty dresses Voldemort conjured.

Harri finally looked away from her reflection. It was time for breakfast. Would Voldemort be there? Part of her hoped yes, if only for the company. Harri opened her bedroom door but was surprised at the sight that greeted her.

The suite door was cracked open.

Harri stepped out of her bedroom and looked quickly around the rest of the suite. He wasn't in the sitting room. His bedroom door was flung open and clearly empty. She couldn't feel his magic in the room.

Voldemort was nowhere to be seen, so Harri slowly opened it the suite door the rest of the way.

She stepped out into the hallway for the first time in a week. Harri didn't want to wait for the elevator and instead bounded down the empty stairway two at a time. Was this escape? Was it her release? Who was to say, she wasn't going to wait and find out.

When she burst out into the lobby she was greeted with none other than Albus Dumbledore sitting at one the tables having a cup of coffee. He was dressed in a Muggle suit and his long beard was glamoured to look more conventional.

Harri all but galloped over.

"Ah good, Harri," said Dumbledore, catching sight of her. "He said that you'd be about soon."

"It's not an escape then?" Harri asked, voice breathless.

"Not this time, my dear. Though I must say that I'm glad you weathered your time Lord Peverell well."

Lord Peverell was it? Was he going by that name now, or was it just because they were around Muggles? It wasn't like she could straight out ask, so Harri just slumped into the hair opposite Dumbledore.

"Do you have my wand?" Harri asked quietly, mindful of the Muggles. "He took it last week."

"I do," said Dumbledore, equally softly. "And I will return it to you as soon as we leave for Hogwarts. Before we can though, I will need your written agreement to the terms Lord Peverell has set out."

"He said it wasn't Captivus again!" Harri said a little louder than she should have.

"No, no that," Dumbledore assured. "No. It's only the basic terms of an agreement. Nothing binding, in a typical way. Usually, it would be kept between the two of us, but seeing as your involvement is required, it was requested that you agree to the terms as well."

"Fine," Harri said, eager to leave. "Can I read it, first?"

"Of course," he said, handing her the folded piece of parchment. The terms were the same as Voldemort had articulated the previous night. Four magical rites, public statements about Voldemort being a _new_ Dark Lord, and a promise to never reveal his true identity.

Looking over what Voldemort had agreed to, something stuck out.

"Why does it just say my physical release?"

"Professor Snape negotiated your release from the Captivus Curse," Dumbledore explained softly.

"Only to make me the captive," Harri hissed.

"Professor Snape had my approval to enter into the agreement, Harri. Nothing was asked of him that will put your life in danger."

She felt mutinous. Dumbledore was agreeing to this nonsense too.

Her hands began to shake, and Dumbledore reached out and softly took one of them in his. His hands were the oldest looking part of him, very wrinkled and boney. But they were strong, and there was something decidedly reassuring about the gesture.

"You are more valuable to the Light than anyone, Harri. Your life is not something we have gambled with. I promise you, you are not at risk in all these machinations. Every step we are taking is to ensure your autonomy from the Dark Lord. You could not stay under his thumb, and these were the only terms he would agree to."

"What exactly did Professor Snape agree to?" Harri asked.

"It is not that I wish to keep it form you, Harri, but it was a condition that Severus tell no one. I can only guess because I suggested the terms of the bargain to him."

"Then tell me."

"It is not for me to share," said Dumbledore shaking his head. "It is Severus' burden, not yours."

"That isn't fair. You say you want to give me autonomy, but no one ever tells me anything. You all just want to keep me in the dark and bargain with my life, but no one ever gives me a say. I do well enough, don't I? I went down into the Chamber. Ginny didn't die. I went after the stone when Voldemort was going to get it. Everyone says to trust the adults, but none of you _do_ anything. It's always me."

Dumbledore's face was very grave. He let go of her hand and folded his long fingers together seriously. "I don't have easy answers for you, Harri. I will admit, at times I have let you be in situations that are dangerous. I knew that there was a chance you would go after the stone, how could I not? Just as I knew that the memory of Tom Riddle would want nothing more than to take you to the Dark Lord. There is higher magic at play in all this, Harri. Magic I cannot control. You and the Dark Lord are tied together, your magic is linked. Yggdrasil has decreed you to be his equal, not me. For every step I have taken to shield you, you have taken a different path that led to the Dark Lord. You are called together, and there is precious little I can do to stop it."

Harri had to blink away tears. "But have you even tried?"

"We are all trying, Harri. And we are failing, we have failed you time and again."

"I don't want any of this," Harri said as steadily as she could. Her voice still wavered. "Why is it me?"

"I can only say, Harri, that it is our choices that show what we really are. You have always chosen to be brave. To put the lives of others ahead of your own. You are not even thirteen, and you are already a better Lady of Light than I was at thirty. You have fought a grown woman's fight. I am… prouder of you than I can say."

Harri closed her eyes. She breathed deeply, trying to center all the feelings that were rioting inside of her.

When she opened her eyes again, Dumbledore was looking at her with a curious expression, blue eyes twinkling behind his half-moon glasses. "I suppose I'll sign this then," Harri said.

Dumbledore reached into his suit pocket and produced a pen. "Curious inventions," he said handing it to her. "You know, I've thought time and time again of introducing them to the Hogwarts students. Much easier to handle than quills. The mutiny that would occur if pureblood scions came home writing with a muggle pen. Why the howlers might just be worth the amusement."

"You should do it, sir," Harri said, signing her name. "It would be well worth it. Lined paper would also be a good introduction. Then Ron wouldn't be able to cheat on his papers by writing in a larger script."

"Ah, Harri, that one will have to stay up to Mr. Weasley's discretion. The Professors are all capable of discerning when students are trying to get away with writing a lazy paper. It is the content of the work that gets a grade, not the length. The reason we assign parchment lengths is in the hope of limiting over-eager young witches, like Ms. Granger. Without a limit, she could very well turn in a thesis every week."

That did sound like Hermione. Which reminded her of the black dog she had sent to her friend. Apparently, her plan had worked. Snape had come knocking on their door, after all.

"What about Sirius Black?" Harri asked. "He's not in danger still, is he?"

"I have counseled Mr. Black to find refuge in his family's home for the time being. He is currently in contact with a lawyer to have a trial instead of being kissed on sight by a dementor."

"He got a lawyer? Well, that's good!"

"Yes, the one that Miss. Granger's parents recommended actually," said Dumbledore. Was that a hint of unease in his voice?

"How hard will it be to get Sirius a trial?"

"Difficult, to an extent. I can call for one easily enough as the Head of the Wizengamot. The actual vote though… I cannot guarantee that would go in Sirius' favor."

"Why not just use pensive memories? Or Veritaserum?"

"Oh, it won't be the content of the testimony that I question. Trials are closed to the public and press, as such there won't be a transcript released. Instead, it will be members voting however they wish. Without Peter Pettigrew found alive, and clearly displayed before the public, I highly doubt that the Wizengamot would vote to free Sirius Black."

"He's a pureblood though?" Harri questioned.

"Yes. And what many old families call a blood-traitor. He represents not just one, but two new votes on the Wizengamot. Sirius has the power to give the Weasleys their seat back. It's been tied up in Black lawsuits for decades."

"And both of them would vote for our side…" Harri realized.

"Yes. It's all politics and power. If you want a fair trial for Sirius it will be more bargaining."

"We don't have anything that they want?" Harri asked.

"I'm sure that we do," said Dumbledore, "but the question is whether we have something that we would be willing to give."

"Sirius deserves to be free!" Harri insisted, voice raising too high for the quiet lobby they were sitting in.

"He does," Dumbledore agreed, "but just remember that everything has a cost, Harri. We will wait. Sirius is safe in his home. It's layered with nearly as many enchantments as Hogwarts. I've even added a few of my own. When the time is right. If we act now it will cost us dearly, but if we wait and act as if it is not so very important, it may not. We will free Sirius."

"I don't even know him," Harri said, "But I'd like to. He's my Godfather. My father's best friend. Remus told me stories about them."

"I remember the mess they always made," Dumbledore said wistfully. "Those were dark times, but with those boys, Hogwarts seemed a little brighter. They had their faults, of course, but when times are Dark laughter is our most powerful weapon."

"I'd like to see him," Harri said firmly.

"Remus Lupin is staying with Sirius for the time being. There are long-lasting effects from Dementor exposure. Remus is uniquely qualified to help Sirius handle long term exposure to dark magic."

"Could I go stay with them, then?"

"That will be between you and Professor Snape."

Harri's face soured. "He won't let me go," she said.

"He may. You can only ask."

Harri slid down her seat. Snape wouldn't agree. He hated Sirius Black too much. He would probably make her cut up potion ingredients all summer. Or brew for the Hospital Wing. Or help find all the citations for his paper. The man knew all the theory, but never knew which book he took it from. So it would be Harri scouring potions textbooks to find out whose theory Snape was building on. She would find it interesting if it weren't for the fact that Sirius Black was yet another link to her parents. There wasn't much that could hold her attention if there were stories about James Potter and Lily Evans to hear.

* * *

It was a relief to have her wand back in her hand and to have a clear conduit of her magic. It made her feel more in control than she had in months. Tom had ensured that she had a wand while they were in Albania, but that had been when she couldn't run away or make problems for him.

Voldemort had been willing to let her keep it under the same circumstance. But as soon as circumstances had changed he had snatched her wand away. She had never had any power, just an illusion.

At least now she was autonomous again. She had her wand and she was bound up by anyone. She could do whatever she wanted. Unless Snape broke his vow. Then she wouldn't be doing anything at all.

It was with some hesitancy that Harri was walking down to the dungeons. On one hand, she could go up to Gryffidnor tower. She'd have to find McGonagall for that first, but that would be the easier conversation. She could hide in the tower with Gulliver and not say a thing to Snape.

That was by far the easier option.

It wasn't the brave one. The brave one was walking down to the dungeon and hashing things out with Snape sooner rather than later. If Harri was anything, it was needlessly brave.

She opened the door to Snape's private quarters without knocking. He was brewing, which wasn't new. Maybe she had expected a little pomp and circumstance about being back. A plume of blue smoke curled off the glassy surface of the cauldron.

Well, that was interesting. Blue usually indicated the addition of Shrake Spines. Typically used in healing. Why was Snape brewing an advanced healing potion? If he was adding in blended dittany extract it wasn't a cheap potion by any means.

"What are you brewing?" Harri asked, and Snape jumped a foot in the air.

He swung round, pure disbelief in his eyes. "Harriet," he whispered, and before she could move he was sweeping her into his arms. Snape never hugged her unless she was in real emotional distress. Which she wasn't right now. Excepting the traitor tear that slid down her cheek.

"Thank God you're alive," he whispered into her hair.

She pushed him away so she could look him in the eye. "You don't get to act like everything is fine," said Harri. "Because it's not fine. You know it's not."

Snape pulled her close again. "You are alive, Harriet. That is the only thing that matters. You're free of that...that monster. Never again," he hissed, gripping her tight. "Do you hear me, never again Harriet. You can never bind yourself that close again. The things he could have used you for!"

"The things he did use me for," said Harri softly. "Don't you understand, he used my blood to come back."

"But not your soul?" said Snape, squinting at her as if he would be able to tell such a thing on sight.

"I don't think so," Harri said, confused.

"You would know. We had to get you away from him. It was only a matter of time."

"Until he used my soul? Why would he need to, he's back isn't he?"

"That's… not for today Harriet. Soul Magic can be very Dark. There is a reason why we were worried about it. But for now… well, for now, you're here. You're safe, and you'll stay that way."

"So you say," said Harri, firmly pushing Snape away from her and stepping back. "But I'm still a captive, aren't I?"

"The Dark Lord demanded terms that I could not refuse," was all the Snape said stiffly. He looked like he wanted to say more, but closed his mouth into a thin line.

"I know what's happening," Harri said, vindictiveness echoing in each word. "You can feel your magic making you stop before you say anything. You could push past it if you wanted to, but you won't. Because if you do, you'll kill me. And it will stay that way until you fulfill whatever vow you agreed to. For however long it takes."

"That is true," Snape said, turning back to his potion that was starting to smoke. He gave it a quick two counter-clockwise stirs.

"And you think this is worth it?" Harri snapped.

"Of course it is worth it, Harriet. You entered into a magical deal for Ginny Weasley, didn't you? Was that worth it? I can't help but notice that you chose her life over keeping the Dark Lord from rising again. Was that wise?"

She… hadn't thought about it that way. Of course Ginny's life was worth saving! But, in the long run, had Harri made a mistake? Should she have let Ginny Weasley die and run away from Tom? Would Tom have been able to stop her? He had left her for days. When Sirius had come she could have escaped.

'It is our choice that shows what we really are,' Dumbledore had said. But what did this choice make Harri? Harri found her usual stool and perched on it uneasily.

"I don't mean to imply that you made the wrong choice, Harriet," Snape said, turning back to her. "Simply that choices have consequences. The guilt you would feel for killing Miss. Weasley would be life-altering. I am personally glad that it won't be something you struggle with. What I mean to say is that the Dark Lord has agreed, for now, to abstain from killing. If he begins again, that will weigh upon you."

"Of course it will!" Harri exclaimed, feeling increasingly distressed. "So is that it now? Every death that comes will be my fault?"

"No. Death is always the fault of the one who holds the wand. If another war should come, it will be the Dark Lord who is responsible for the deaths he causes. What I am trying to say, Harriet-" he broke off and looked like he wanted to rub his face in exasperation. Snape didn't touch his face while brewing, so instead, he paced a quick circle.

"I'm trying to say that I've made a choice Harriet. One that will not put your life at risk because I would do just about _anything_ to keep you alive. I fought a bloody basilisk, do you understand? Not just because I loved your mother; Lily meant the world to me, but because you-" he broke off again.

"My choice will have consequences," he said at last. "Yours will too. We've both had to make hard choices that may have difficult results. Ones that will be hard to accept. Don't put blame on yourself for what the Dark Lord does in the future. And I would ask of you, Harriet… please don't blame me for what I'll have to do."

That wasn't a promise she could make. If people died, however many, she would blame herself. Whatever Snape had agreed to, if it had some sort of horrible effect on the world, she would blame herself. If Harri wasn't involved, if Voldemort didn't know who she was, was it possible that none of this would have happened?

No. She had known that Voldemort was her soulmate from the moment she had looked at her wrist. Tom Riddle would have gotten that information from her whether she had spoken to Voldemort when retrieving the stone or not. In the end, Harri's choices hadn't mattered all that much. The choices of Lord Voldemort and Lucius Malfoy were the ones that had so radically changed her life.

"What are you brewing?" Harri asked, instead of expressing all of her complicated thoughts and feelings. Snape would pull out books on post-trauma meditation.

"A potion for healing mental damage sustained from long term exposure to dark magic," Snape said with a grimace. "For Sirius Black."

* * *

Grimmauld Place was the sort of spooky home that no child should grow up in.

The house had gloomy dark rooms, cavernous rough stone walls, and moth-eaten curtains. It had clearly once been a very grand house, but it was in dire need of cleaning. It was full of dirt and grime, horrific looking portraits (and mounted houself heads), and had dark items laid out casually.

Dumbledore told her the location so she could floo to it the night before her birthday. Snape had grimaced unhappily as he packed up the potions kit Harri was supposed to bring along to Sirius.

"None of this is poison, is it?" Harri asked uneasily, taking in Snape's dark expression. If anything her question made him look angrier.

"I won't have you calling into question my integrity as a Potions Master," he snapped, handing her the leather satchel.

"Touchy, Touchy," Harri said, hands up. "You just look like you'd rather murder my Godfather than help him."

"Oh, I would," said Snape. "That good for nothing. You'll see. You'll see what he really is after twenty-four hours. Then you'll want nothing more to do with that arse."

"Hmm…" Harri had hummed noncommittally. She certainly hoped not. She would like to like her Godfather.

One short floo later, and she was spinning into the filthy grate at number 12.

"Harri!" came the excited voice of Remus Lupin.

"Hello," Harri said uncertainly as she got to her feet. Black was standing there beside Remus, but didn't immediately say anything. He was wearing clean clothes now. His hair was washed and cut. It looked like he had put on weight over the last two months, and he didn't look like a walking skeleton anymore. His teeth, formally rotted, were now the perfectly straight and pristinely white teeth typical of magic users.

He would almost look handsome if it weren't for his haunted eyes with dark circles under them.

"Harri," Black said at last. "I'm so glad you're here," and he gave a charming smile that was all the roguish charm Remus had described. Harri laughed.

"Me too," she said happily, walking further into the musty room.

Remus and Sirius had cleaned up a bedroom for her. Cleaning bedrooms had been the first priority when they had moved in, the second had been the kitchen.

"We're onto the drawing-room now," said Remus. "Yesterday we found doxies everywhere and nest od dead puffskins under the sofa."

"Why is everything so…" Harri trialed off, not wanting to sound rude about the house.

"Disgusting?" Sirius offered up. "That would be Kreacher."

"Who?"

"My mum's batty old houself. He's been talking to her portrait for the last ten years and gone right bonkers."

"Your mum's portrait?"

"Would you like to meet her?" There was a gleam to Sirius' eyes that told Harri, no, she probably did not.

"No," Remus said sharply. "Harri doesn't need to hear all that."

"Hear all what?"

"Mrs. Black had set opinions about what type of person should be in her house. She likes to shout about it if her portrait is disturbed." Oh. Well no, she didn't need to hear all that.

"Moving on," said Remus, giving Sirius a firm look, "We were working on what to do for your birthday."

"We don't have to do anything," Harri said quickly. "I just thought it would be nice to see you both."

"Don't be silly, Harri," Sirius said, "Birthdays are meant to be celebrated. You should have seen your first birthday party. Lily had it at Headquarters, the whole Order was there. More food than we could eat, plenty of good firewhisky, not to mention the cake!"

"I- I had a birthday party?" Harri asked, feeling awed. "Really?"

"Of course you did!" Black continued on bombastically, "Then your dad and I set off a bunch of fireworks. We were out in the middle of nowhere, and the anti-muggle shields were enough to use some really wild ones. You were so little though, Lily said you fell asleep halfway through."

"That sounds brilliant," Harri said softly.

"And we're sorry to do something quite so grand tomorrow," Remus explained.

"What with my criminal status, it's probably best not to make a scene," agreed Sirius.

"You mentioned last summer that you like to bake," continued Remus, "and you're free to say no, Harri. What we thought we could do was make a birthday cake, all together. I know how to cook,"

"And I certainly don't," said Sirius gamely, "therefore it will be a good time. Everyone likes to watch me not know how to do things."

"That's because you're ridiculous," said Remus with a snort.

"That sounds great," Harri said with a smile. "Yes, I'd like that. I only remember a birthday cake Hagrid brought me when I got my letter, but I had to help make Dudley's every year."

"That won't bring up bad memories, will it?" Remus asked.

"No," Harri said, shaking her head. "The Dursleys always had to give me a slice of cake or it made them look bad. It was the only good thing about Dudley's birthday. Only this year I can make the cake I like!"

Baking with Sirius was every bit as big of a mess as Harri thought it would be, which of course made it fantastic. Somehow Remus had known that laughter was the tonic to the soul. Well, laughter and chocolate.

The next morning Harri received post, three letters and packages.

Over the last month, she had written to all of her friends to assure them that she was alright. Obviously Ron, Hermione, and Neville, but also Lavender and Parvati. The Daily Prophet had reported her return on the front page (will a glowing report that Severus Snape and Albus Dumbledore and defeated the remnants of the He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named's spirit to save her), so there wasn't a need to write anyone else.

Harri had almost written to Ginny Weasley but felt that their conversation was one to be had in person. In her letter to Ron, Harri had specifically asked him to let Ginny know that she wanted to talk as soon as they were back at Hogwarts.

The first parcel she opened was from Neville. His letter was cheerful, mostly about the success he had had in improving his greenhouse over the last two weeks. But he also included the clippings of new hybrid that might be useful in regenerative muscle therapy.

 _'... I've sent the first spare I've cultivated to St. Mungos, but I thought you might like to try your hand with a few of these clippings.'_

It was intriguing. Snape had even mentioned letting Harri develop her own project. This could be a good starting place.

Hermione's letter was sent from France. She was on holiday with her parents for the last week of July, then she would be meeting Harri back at Hogwarts come August 3rd. The Professors would be there to help the petrified students keep up with missed practical school work.

 _Dear Harri,_

 _I'm on holiday in France at the moment, but we brought along my parent's owl so that I could send this off to get to you on your birthday. It should arrive on time, and I specifically let her know that July 31st was the date we were aiming for!_

 _I know I could have waited a few more days, but it is ever so nice to get a gift on your birthday I think. Did you see the picture of Ron and his family a week ago? I bet he's learning loads. I'm really jealous- the ancient Egyptian wizards were fascinating._

 _There's some interesting local history of witchcraft here, too. I've rewritten my whole History of Magic essay to include some of the things I've found out. I hope it's not too long- it's two rolls of parchment more than Professor Binns asked for._

 _Ron says he's going to be in London in the last week of August. We should go along then too. Do you think Snape will let us? I really hope we can, I'd like to see Ron and Neville again. I'll see you at Hogwarts soon!_

 _With Love,_

 _Hermione_

 _P.S. Ron says Percy's Head Boy. I'll bet Percy's really pleased. Ron doesn't seem too happy about it._

Harri laughed as she put Hermione's letter aside and picked up her present. It was very heavy. Knowing Hermione, she was sure it would be a large book full of very difficult spells- but it wasn't. Her heart gave a huge bound as she ripped back the paper and saw a sleek black leather case, with silver words stamped across it, reading _Broomstick Servicing Kit._

"Do you like to fly?" Sirius asked.

"Love to!" Harri exclaimed. "I don't necessarily like to play Quidditch, but it gives me an excuse to get on the pitch all the time. So it's worth it."

"Your dad liked to play," Sirius said. "I'm sure Remus has told you. He was a great Chaser. Bit of a nutter about it. Sometimes it was all he could talk about."

"Yeah," Harri said with a grin. "My Captain, Oliver Wood, he's like that. Gryffindor hasn't won the cup in a few years now, but he acts like it's been a century!"

"What else then?" Remus asked, eyeing the other gift. "You've got some serious presents, Harri. Plant clippings and Broomstick Servicing Kit. Lily used to give gifts like that," Remus said aside to Sirius.

"Ron won't," Harri assured happily. "It will be cheap and whimsical."

Ron's letter included a clipping from the Daily Prophet. Harri had already seen it, but she showed it to Remus and Sirius so that they could see the picture of her friend.

"See, this is Ron," she said, pointing out her tall and gangling friend. Scabbers was perched on his shoulder, and his arm was around Ginny. Ginny looked a bit happier.

Harri handed the picture to Sirius, and picked up Ron's letter and unfolded it. Egypt did sound fascinating. She'd like to go once she actually knew a little bit about Runes. Voldemort had only given her advanced books to read, all of which had been over her head.

Harri now turned to her present and unwrapped it. Inside was what looked like a miniature glass spinning top. A Pocket Sneakoscope, according to Ron.

"Well, look at this. Is this irreverent enough for you two?" she asked, showing it to them.

Neither Sirius or Remus looked up from the picture Sirius was still holding. Both of them look shocked.

"Is that?" Remus said at last.

"It has to be," Sirius replied.

"What?" Harri asked, confused.

"He's at Hogwarts," Sirius breathed.

"Who's at Hogwarts? Ron?"

"Peter," Remus answered, and Black turned the picture around and pointed at… Scabbers?

* * *

Thanks to Shetan20, SkyeMoor, Liandra2428, Bloody-Asphode11, Neredia, yay-im-a-bat, and ALIASTESIN for reviewing this week. I appreciate your comments and hope you enjoy where the story is headed! Special thanks to lisistrataantigona for messaging me with my typos.


	42. Captivus: Wormtail

"HARRI!"

There was a blur of curly hair running straight at her. Harri barely had time to blink before she was caught up in a vice-like hug courtesy of Hermione Granger.

Harri clung tightly to Hermione, feeling for all the world like everything would be _alright_ now. If they were together it would be. Dark Lords, Basilisks, and impossible riddles couldn't separate them. Nothing could.

There was a good-natured cough from behind them, as Remus Lupin cleared his throat. Harri reluctantly loosened her grip on Hermione. She had gotten so used to Hermione's glassy eyes that she had forgotten the way they looked full of life. Harri's throat tightened, and she had to swallow several times.

"We have to find Professor Dumbledore," Harri said at last, pulling away from Hermione.

"You do?" Hermione asked, looking between Harri and Lupin.

"It's about…" Harri trailed off but gave Hermione a meaningful look.

Hermione's eyes lit with understanding, and she nodded. "Is it good news?"

"I think so," Harri told her softly. "I'll find you after we talk."

She led Remus to Dumbledore's office. He had insisted on apparition. Apparently, Dumbledore would have set his floo so that only Harri could go all the way through, and this was a conversation Remus wanted to have in person, not as a floating head in a fire grate.

' _Chocolate Frogs,'_ said Harri to the gargoyle, and the two headed up the staircase. Remus knocked, but didn't wait for Dumbledore to bid them enter before he was opening the door.

"Pettigrew," Remus said before Dumbledore could open his mouth. "Pettigrew is alive. We found him."

"Oh?" Dumbledore asked, barely having time to get the word out before Remus continued.

"Yes! He's been with the Weasleys the whole time!" He took the newspaper clipping out from inside his robe and slapped it onto Dumbledore's desk.

Dumbledore looked closely at the photo. "Now," he began, "I am aware that Messers Black, Potter, and Pettigrew became animagi while in Hogwarts. You and Mr. Black have explained that side of the story, but you cannot mean to say that any rat in a photo with a wizarding family is proof that it is Pettigrew?" Dumbledore stared hard at the picture. "Tell me why you think it is Peter Pettigrew?"

"He's missing a toe," Lupin explained, pointing it out in the photo. "See, here."

"And all they found of young Mr. Pettigrew was a finger," Dumbledore said softly.

"Yes! Yes! Yes, that exactly!" Remus exclaimed almost manically.

"They've been like that since last night, Professor," Harri said cheekily with a smile. "It means Sirius can be free! Isn't it the best stroke of good luck you've ever heard of?"

"Yes, I suppose it is," Dumbledore said still squinting at the photo. "If we're going to do this right it needs to be the Department of Magical Law Enforcement that takes him in. Assuming that it really is Peter Pettigrew."

"Ron has had that rat for three years," Harri said, "And Percy had the rat before that. Have you ever heard of a rat living longer than three years, Professor?"

"I suppose not," Dumbledore conceded. "As unlikely as it seems… but yes, I suppose Peter would want to be with a Wizarding family, wouldn't he? To keep an ear to the ground. A long-lived rat that happens to be missing a toe-"

"In exactly the right spot! It's the same finger that Peter cut off, even!" Remus insisted.

"Yes… I'll go over to the Ministry today and speak to Amelia. Then we'll start to get this processed. Peter is such a small animagus, and he's jumpy now with Sirius on the loose… He could escape easily if we do not tread quietly and quickly."

"But you will get him, sir?" Harri asked.

"We can certainly hope," Dumbledore replied, brow furrowed in thought.

* * *

That night Harri tossed and turned, feeling too hot to fall asleep. Her entire body felt like it was burning, but her feet were worst of all. She kicked them out from under the covers but had that uncomfortable feeling one has that something in the dark might grab you by the ankle. Hermione's soft breathing echoed through the room, and Harri tried to focus on it to the exclusion of her own discomfort. The cupboard under the stairs had sometimes been burning hot. The Dursley's would turn off the air at night, and the stuffy cupboard could get suffocatingly hot in the summer. This was nothing to that, Harri thought as she finally drifted off into an uncomfortable sleep.

Her dream was just as uncomfortable.

Was she running? Incapable of escape? It felt like she was being chased, but for the life of her she couldn't figure out how to move. She was hot. Was her entire body fire? There was a feeling… it was familiar. She felt a brush against her forehead, and it soothingly cool.

"I didn't know it would have quite this effect," she heard from the coolness.

"Don't go," she whispered. "It's better to not burn."

There was lilt of amusement to the voice, "You won't thank me in the morning when you understand."

"Mmm," she hummed, trying to move further into the cool (mist?).

"It's just a test," the voice reassured (why did it need to be reassuring?). "I'm not going to do this often, but I imagine the effects will be the same each time. At least until…" the voice trailed off.

"I'm trying to sleep," Harri said grumpily. "I want to be rested for tomorrow."

"What's happening tomorrow?"

"They're going to catch him," she muttered, eyes sealed shut. If he would just shut up she would be able to sleep.

"Who?" the voice asked sounding more serious. She shouldn't tell him this, but for the life of her Harri couldn't figure out why.

"Pettigrew. He was in the paper."

"Was he," said the soothing cool, and she felt fingers running through her hair. Shocks of cold shot from her scald and down her spine, a delicious sensation that finally broke the oppressive heat.

"Yep, right on Ron's shoulder," the fingers paused, but then continued the stroking motion. It was so lovely, and the voice didn't speak again. Harri drifted into true sleep at last.

* * *

Peter hadn't been sleeping well for the last few months.

Despite his certainty that Sirius wouldn't know where he was, he still found himself jerking awake at odd hours. Sirius' grim and determined look had spelled certain death on that Samhain night of 1981. Sirius couldn't understand- could never understand- how it felt to be confronted with the Dark Lord. The allure and power was more than Peter could handle.

James and Sirius had always been so perfect. Never a hint of the Dark on them. They had never struggled with the call of Dark Magic, had never felt the slightest itch or draw to the Dark Lord. Not like Peter had. Not like Remus had.

At first, Peter had thought that Remus was someone he could truly talk to. They were friends, Peter had worked hard and become an animagus for him! That should have counted for something. All he had gotten from Remus was distrust and a brush off. Those were dark days, after all. That decade had made it so no one knew who to trust, whether it be friends, lovers, or family. Anyone could be on the opposite side of a war that was destroying the Wizarding World.

Brush offs were all Peter ever got from his friends. Too weak to be seen as a threat. Too accommodating to be seen as worth anyone's time. Someone better suited to being a background character in their own life.

When Lily and James had made him, _him_ , their secret keeper instead of Sirius, at first Peter had felt honored. They did trust him. They did believe that Peter would stand by them no matter what. The exhilaration had faded quickly. They wanted Peter because everyone thought it was Sirius. It was Sirius who was Harriet's godfather. It was Sirius who James and Lily trusted more than anyone. Sirius was the trusted decoy and Peter- Peter was the one no one would think of.

No one ever thought of Peter Pettigrew.

Certainly, they didn't think of him enough to worry that he would betray them. So he had.

It hadn't been all at once. Small bits of information to the Dark Side with a promise of clemency if the war should go the other way. Then, as it was starting to look like the Dark Lord would be victorious, more and more information. Locations of safe houses. Names of those who were members of the Order. Who would be vulnerable to conversion to the Dark. Peter was a rat, he could crawl through the halls and rooms of Headquarters and _listen._ Peter knew who fretted about the call of the Dark (and it wasn't long until they fell to the Dark Lord too).

He didn't give up Lily and James. Not for a long time. He had never planned to do it (no one ever plans to betray their friends). Until it was happening. There hadn't been anger or resentment at the time. No great tipping point in his relationship that made it finally palatable after a year of keeping the secret locked tight in his head.

At the time all he had thought about was little Harriet. Hair just coming in the same shade of red as Lily's. Eyes like James. He had been a rat once again, hiding under the couch at Godric's Hallow and listening to what James, Lily, and Sirius had to say.

They fretted over Remus as the spy. They worried over little Harriet. They didn't mention Peter at all.

He learned something new from their conversation (that they never thought of Peter was known, it was something he was long used to). They didn't think the Dark Lord was after _them_ , he was after Harriet.

Late that night, Peter had stood looking down at Harriet in her crib. The little girl was fast asleep. James and Lily were asleep too. He could take Harriet to the Dark Lord now. James and Lily wouldn't have to die. Only Harriet. Was one little girl too much of a cost?

To Lily and James, it would have been. They would spend their whole lives trying to protect the little girl, but it would be for nothing in the end.

Wouldn't it be better for Harriet to die now? Before she knew what it was to live? Before she knew what fear was, and could die simply and unafraid. Harriet would eventually die. The Dark Lord would kill her, Peter had no doubt.

He had reached down to the little girl, as if to touch her, but pulled back before he could. Instead, he melted into the form of a rat and left the Potter's home. Lily and James would rather be dead than live in a world without their daughter. Sirius would call it a betrayal, but Peter had thought it a kindness. Better they should all die together, sooner rather than later.

.

On the morning of August 2nd, 1993 Peter was enjoying a nap in the sun. He hadn't slept well, and he was losing weight fast. The Dark Lord was defeated, or so the papers said now. The truth in that remained to be seen, a new Dark Lord should appear soon.

Would he make a move once this new Dark Lord appeared? Peter wasn't sure. With Black on the run, it was very possible that Peter could get found out. He had heard that the order was for Dementors to kiss on sight. If they did… well, Peter could return, couldn't he? Could claim that he had been hiding for all these years in fear of Black escaping.

Yes, that would be the solution. It was only a matter of time before Black was caught and kissed. Then Peter could be live free of his life as Scabbers. He certainly had liked his time with the Weasleys. Nice people. Percy had always taken care of Scabbers by the book, which had been frustrating at the time, but Ron was much more relaxed. He had let him nibble at his human food than the rat food Percy had insisted on ("Scabbers needs a balanced diet, Mum! We can't guarantee that he'll eat the right ratio of fruits, to vegetables, to whole grains! The rat food will make sure he's nutritionally balanced!").

Perhaps he would give a special thanks to the Weasley family when he revealed himself. Or perhaps not… perhaps they would prefer never to know that Scabbers the rat had once been a man.

He heard the door open but didn't open his eyes. Just Ron coming in after breakfast.

Then-

" _Stupefy"_

 _._

When Peter came too he wasn't a rat anymore. For the first time in a very long time, he was shaped like a man. It felt uncomfortable. In the old days, he had transformed regularly, but for the last decade, he had stayed a rat nearly constantly. His skin felt overly stretched. He was horribly cold without his fur and only a ragged old robe as over.

Standing over him was Alfred Avery and Amycus Carrow.

"So the tip-off was right," Carrow sneered, looking down at Peter with disgust. "Hiding with blood-traitors all these years, Pettigrew?"

"A-ah A-my-cus." Peter stuttered. "A-and Avery, my old friends." They had never been his friends. They had sneered at him all those years ago. Oh, how they had despised and judged him. The Dark _wanted_ spies. They also _detested_ them.

"You're quite lucky, Pettigrew. The Dark Lord found out you were alive before it was too late for you. When old Dumbledore sent for someone in the DMLE to take in an animagus hiding at the Weasley's we knew to take the job," Avery jeered.

"Y-yes, of course. Very lucky," Peter simpered. The Dark Lord. The new Dark Lord? Or was Voldemort not so dead?

"We'll have to say you got away," continued Avery, "that you overpowered us somehow." Both men let out sharp laughs that made Peter's blood boil. Sneering bastards. Thinking they were better than he. Perhaps Peter hadn't seemed like much compared to Black, Potter, and Lupin but he wasn't _that_ weak.

"I'm s-sure you c-c-can make it believable," Peter stuttered out, trying to look round the clearing casually. He recognized it as just outside Ottery St. Catchpole. They hadn't cast a strong stupefy then. Or maybe they were trying to frame Peter's escape now. Have him act the part of overpowering strength so that they could submit memories of his escape.

He would give them memories alright, and not fake ones either.

Peter shakily stood. The Dark Lord was an unknown quantity, and until he could assure his position with the new Dark Lord, he wasn't going anywhere near him. What Peter Pettigrew needed was information, and that was something that Wormtail had never had difficulty finding.

Avery and Carrow had turned to speak to each other for a moment, and Peter saw his chance. He silently turned into a rat and scurried away. He heard their shouts behind him, but a rat could hide in a treeline for weeks and never be found.

He felt more natural in his rat form and scurried quickly away and into some brush. He then stayed perfectly still. Avery and Carrow banged around, swearing loudly as they went. Peter didn't have to wait long, the two men gave up easily. They assumed that he would be long gone, that Peter Pettigrew didn't know how to play the long game.

That was their mistake. Peter had lived as a rat for thirteen years, he could out-wait two Death Eaters for thirty minutes.

When they apparated away Peter transformed back into himself. It was more difficult than he remembered to become a man again. His wand was still in the pocket of his ratty old robe, thankfully, and shakily took it in hand.

Where to apparate?

Was there anywhere in all of England that was safe? What information could he gather to ensure his safety from one side or the other? There was no easy answer, but a spot did come to mind.

Closing his eyes and thinking firmly on his destination, Peter Pettigrew disapparated with a pop.

* * *

The morning of August the 2nd had Harri jumping up and down at the breakfast table (if she had odd dreams the night before they seemed unimportant now). Hermione looked at her with a slight smile but didn't comment on Harri's excitement. Harri hadn't been able to concentrate on anything other than Sirius being potentially free since the night before. The only damper on her mood came when Hermione asked, "Do you want Sirius to become your guardian if he's cleared of all charges?"

The answer to that question was a complicated one… but also very simple.

"No," was Harri's immediate response. There was a loyalty to Snape that had developed that Harri didn't fully understand. Yes, she wanted to be close to Sirius and Remus. Yes, she wanted to spend time with them.

But… Hogwarts was her home. Not Grimmauld Place. Spinner's End, which she had spent precious little time, even had a certain appeal to Harri. Snape had taken her for a walk around the neighborhood where her mother had lived. There was something so undeniably muggle about Cokeworth and Severus Snape. There was a part of Harri, and a part of her mother, that lived in the Muggle cracks of Severus Snape. A Muggle upbringing, Harri was starting to realize, was something that a witch or wizard could never escape. There were mannerisms, turns of phrase, and simple ways of doing things that could be spotted easily if you knew how to look (Even the Dark Lord brewed his tea instead of using a wand).

So yes, she did want to spend time with Sirius Black and Remus Lupin. She also wanted to spend time with Severus Snape.

"Are things… alright between you and Professor Snape, Harri?" Hermione asked when Harri fell silent, contemplating just _why_ she wanted to stay with Snape.

"Things are… complicated, Hermione. Very complicated. In fact-" How did Harri explain it? What did Hermione know? She knew Harri had been possessed by the Spirit of Lord Voldemort. She knew that Harri had been taken to Voldemort. She had been told that Snape and Dumbledore had fought that Spirit and killed off the Dark Lord at last. There was no room to discuss magical contracts and a looming feeling of dread.

"In fact?" Hermione pressed.

"In fact, Snape and Black weren't friends at all. So I don't know how they're going to get on. They'll just have to, I suppose," Harri supplied, sounding more flippant than she felt.

"Well, I'm sure they're very different people than they were at school," Hermione supplied helpfully. "What with Black spending time in Azkaban and Snape spending so much time with you."

"Hermione!" Harri exclaimed in fake offense. "Are you trying to say that spending time with me is the same as torture by Dementors?"

"Well… maybe a bit," Hermione said with a slight twitch of the lips.

"I'll have you know," Harri said, poking Hermione's side where she knew a ticklish spot lurked, "That I am a right delight to be around!"

Hermione let out an unwilling peal of laughter, "Harri! No!"

"Admit it! I am delightful for you to be around. A real joy," she found the spot again and Hermione let out a joked snort.

"Never," Hermione gasped, then she grabbed her bag that was resting on top of the Gryffindor table, and before Harri could strike again started sprinting towards the library.

"You won't get away that easy!" Harri called after her, also grabbing her bag and giving chase after Hermione who she could hear laughing up ahead. Harri was much faster than Hermione and easily caught up with her. She continued to poke and prod at her friend, sending Hermione into hysterics.

Their game of chase ended outside the library, both girls gasping for air, leaned against the corridor wall. "I suppose," Hermione said through gasping breaths, "that you're tolerable."

"Just tolerable?" Harri asked.

"But certainly not enough to tempt me," Hermione added with imperium.

Harri snorted. "Pride and Prejudice? You're certainly more of an Elizabeth than I am."

"You've read it?" Hermione asked with a pleased smile. "I always forget that you like to read novels."

"Just because I don't pour over theoretical books like you do! You always act like I can't read," Harri replied jovially, sticking her tongue out.

"Oh," Hermione said, color draining from her face. "I'm sorry, Harri."

"No, no not like that, Hermione!" Harri quickly clarified. "I don't mind it. I could never keep up with you."

"But I've offended you, haven't I? I always say the wrong thing," and Hermione sounded quite gloomy about it.

"No, you don't, Hermione. I don't care if you make jabs about my liking novels. How could that offend? You're… well, you're _you_. I don't expect I'll ever be interested in any magical theories the way you are. And that's okay. I like potions and I think I'll like runes. I'm happy to like what I like. You should like what you like too."

"Harri you always simplify it too much," Hermione said, sliding down the wall and leaning her head against it, knees pulled up to her face. "You should be offended, I don't know why you aren't."

"Because I don't care about those sorts of things," Harri supplied, sliding down next to Hermione. "Of course you drive me mad sometimes Hermione. But I don't want you to stop being yourself."

"I just can't stop messing up! Half the trouble you got into last year was because I didn't go to a teacher when I should have," Hermione exclaimed suddenly.

"What?" Harri asked, trying to follow Hermione's logic.

"I was so certain that I knew what to do! That I could find the Diary and get it to a teacher. Draco wouldn't give any proof if we went to a teacher, so I had to find something. But then I got petrified- Ron and Neville told me what they let Malfoy do to you in front of the whole school! All because I did it wrong!"

"Hermione, wait-"

"So how can you like anything about me, Harri, when it's my fault that you got kidnapped?"

"No, it's not!" Harri insisted, but Hermione was not anywhere near stopping.

"All because I listened to Draco Malfoy. I wanted him to be nice and kind. I wanted to believe him, all because he was my soulmate. But none of that mattered, did it? He still chose his family over the right thing. I was petrified for a whole bloody school year, and you! You could have died, Harri-"

Harri grabbed Hermione by the shoulders and pulled her into a tight hug. They were just two girls, out of breath, on the floor.

"It all feels too big sometimes, doesn't it," Harri said softly.

"What does?" Hermione asked, clutching Harri tightly.

"Everything."

* * *

Thanks to those of you who reviewed over the last two weeks: The Butterfly Defect (and really a special thanks because those were some crazy great comments), SkyeMoor, DRWPJT, .Addiction.1738, ALIASTESIN, quaquaquaqua, Neredia, Shetan20, and guest!


	43. Captivus: With a Little Help

It was Snape who haltingly let Harri know that Pettigrew had escaped.

Hermione was at her Transfiguration Practical on the morning of the 2nd. They were exactly four weeks from the start of term, and Hermione would spend the first getting assessed by each professor. Hermione was hopeful that Charms and Transfiguration would need little help. Unfortunately, Herbology and Potions both required hands-on study and would take up most of her time. Defense, unfortunately for everyone, had been such a disaster the year before that there was no practical study to take

Left with nothing to do for the next two hours, Harri had wandered down to the Potion's Lab to see if she could get a start on the first few brews the third years would be taking on. Generally agreed to be the best at potions in their year, Harri had started to brew with Neville to prevent any accidents. It helped if Harri knew the potion backward and forwards so that she could guide Neville through. Explosions were down, as was Neville's anxiety (the general cause of the explosions). Snape, who loathed dangerous mistakes, would hover over Neville to try and prevent them. Snape's hovering increased Neville's anxiety, and thus his mistakes. With Harri there to help Neville, Snape tended to focus on other students.

Harri met the news of Pettigrew's escape with as straight a face as possible, but her insides felt cold.

The dream- the one she had not given much thought to- now seemed very important. The burning hot feeling that had faded into cool comfort as the voice had… stroked her hair? The voice had been familiar, hadn't it? And she had _told_ the voice that Peter Pettigrew was at the Weasley's.

"I had a dream," Harri whispered unhappily. "I think it was him."

A sharp look twisted Snape's face into a grimace. "You shared a dream with the Dark Lord?"

"I-" Harri looked down at her hands, clenching and unclenching in frustration. "I must have. How can he do that? That isn't normal, is it? To share dreams with someone even if they are your…. Whatever we are."

"No. That isn't an ability of soulmates. Though you and the Dark Lord do share a- a bond, Harriet."

The realization hit her, "He used my blood in his resurrection!" If Snape nodded a little too quickly in agreement, Harri didn't notice.

"What exactly did you say to the Dark Lord, Harriet?" Snape asked.

"Not much, I was too tired to even realize it was him. Everything was so hot, I felt like I was burning up even before I fell asleep."

Snape's eyes narrowed and he contemplated Harri carefully. "In the future, if you feel that same feeling, you should implement Occlomecy- if you can that is. We will work on it."

"We will?" Harri asked uneasily. On one hand, she didn't want the Dark Lord in her head. On the other hand, she didn't really want to give up all of her Friday nights to Snape again. Between new classes, Quidditch, and spending time with her friends it didn't look like Harri would have much time for sleep. "Maybe we can meet once a month? I thought maybe this year we could take it a bit easy. Adjusting to new classes and all."

Snape frowned sourly. "The purpose of your education at Hogwarts is not to be an idle lump. You have every promise in the craft of potions. Your Friday nights will still be spent here, Harriet."

"That isn't fair! No other students have to do this!"

"No other students have a Dark Lord invading their dreams. Have a care, Harriet! Stop acting like a child."

"Well, aren't you the one always saying that I am a child? That I'm too young to understand ANYTHING?"

"You are thirteen," Snape said softly. It was his most dangerous tone of voice. "The Dark Lord has returned and we are losing time quickly, Harriet. You no longer have the luxury of frivolity."

Harri took a deep and calming breath and tried to clear her mind. Snape did have a point. Maybe she was being childish. But Yggdrasil help her, she wanted to be a bit childish. She wanted to spend mindless hours with Ron and Neville playing chess and exploding snap while Hermione nagged at them to do their homework. She didn't want to think about Dark Lords or higher magic. Couldn't she just pretend…

Well no, she couldn't. Voldemort was the one who had gotten Pettigrew free. He had used Harri's mind to do it. Voldemort held the key to freeing Sirius Black. If Harri was ever going to help Sirius she needed to work hard. Sirius had suffered for twelve years, surely Harri could study a bit harder and hopefully do _something_ to help him.

At the very least, she could learn how to keep Voldemort out.

"Fridays, fine," she said, not meeting Snape's eyes. She felt churlish. He placed a warm hand on her shoulder and squeezed softly.

"I'm sorry, Harriet, but you need to learn. You've said you feel powerless. This is the solution. If you work hard you won't stay powerless. You'll be a force in your own right."

Harri shrugged. "I guess I can't have it both ways," she mumbled. "I can't demand to be treated as an adult and then not put in the work."

Snape squeezed her shoulder again. Harri finally looked up and gave a weak smile. "I should probably go, Hermione is getting out her Transfiguration practical soon. We're going to study before lunch."

"If there is one thing I can say about Miss. Granger, it is that she's a good influence on your study habits. Perhaps even worth grading papers that are three feet longer than requested."

He gave Harri a meaningful look as if she could somehow stop Hermione. Harri opened her arms wide as if to say 'Who me?'

* * *

Harri walked down to the Library to meet Snape and a reporter for the Daily Prophet about two weeks later. Harri had known the meeting with a reporter was coming. Voldemort had required a public statement from her that he was defeated. Dumbledore had told her the time and place. Snape had even signed a consent form.

With some difficulty, Harri was trying to organize her mind. The truth, dreadful thing that it was, had to be hidden from the reporter. It had to be whatever version of the truth that Voldemort had demanded spun.

No, she hadn't seen what had happened between Dumbledore and the Spirit. Snape had given her a portkey the moment he had been able.

Yes, she was relieved that Voldemort was finally gone.

No, she didn't know what the spirit had wanted from her. And no, it hadn't specifically tried to harm her beyond keeping her at the camp in Albania.

No, she wasn't sure what the Dark Object that held the Heir of Slytherin had been. Yes, it had been a part of Voldemort.

Yes, she was glad to be home.

And (under heavy protest from Snape)… No, she wasn't worried about Sirius Black.

That one was sure to get a big reaction from the reporter if asked. It wasn't like Harri could pull out some form of proof that he was innocent. No secret documents from her parents that would point to his innocence.

All she had was… 'He's my Godfather. If he wanted to find me, he could. It would go against his magic to bring me any harm'.

What a mess it all was. All lies that she found difficult to swallow. But necessary lies, to ensure that Voldemort didn't go about starting another war. She would lie until her lips turned blue if it meant maintaining peace.

Most of the important people knew the truth. Sirius and Remus knew. They had been involved in her rescue, and it had been Sirius who had used his blood to track her to the London hotel. Hermione must know a good deal of the truth as well. She had told Harri carefully that, "Dumbledore made me promise not to talk about what happened, and I should think that's as good a reason as any, Harri!"

Hermione must know some version of the truth, but Harri had no idea to what extent. She really needed to talk to Dumbledore to straighten who knew what and how much. She didn't want to slip up and had thus kept her mouth mostly shut on the whole incident. With the interview, it would soon become clear to Hermione, and maybe a few others, that Harri wasn't being entirely truthful about what happened with Voldemort in Albania.

Snape was waiting in the library with a witch in magenta robe. She was talking to Snape very quickly, using a lot of hand gestures. Snape looked very uncomfortable, his sneer firmly in place.

"Ah, Harriet," Snape said when he spotted Harri. The woman stopped talking and looked at Harri like she was a bug under a microscope.

"This is Rita Skeeter," Snape explained, saying the woman's name like it was a very dreadful thing. "She's going to be doing the small piece on your capture."

"Maybe not _that_ small, Severus," said Rita Skeeter, her eyes on Harri.

Her hair was set in elaborate and curiously rigid curls that contrasted oddly with her heavy-jawed face. She wore jeweled spectacles. The thick fingers clutching her crocodile-skin handbag ended in two-inch nails painted crimson.

The nails, Harri knew from Lavender, were very much in style. Her curls were too rigid because they were spelled to stay in place even with magical intervention (like a potion or charm). Was Rita Skeeter worried that someone was going to hex her hair?

"Yes, Harriet Potter! I'm so glad to have this opportunity!" she said with a sharp-toothed grin. "You won't mind Harriet if I use a Quick-Quotes Quill? It leaves me free to talk to your normally…"

"No," Snape said firmly before Harri could answer. "Those things are notorious for misquoting."

Her sharp grin fell slightly, but she recovered quickly enough. "Over here, Harriet dear," she said, gesturing to a small table that had been set up with only two seats. Snape would have to stand.

Rita sat and opened her crocodile skin bag and pulled out parchment and a quill. Harri cautiously stepped forward and sat down awkwardly at the table.

"So, Harriet…. What was it like to be kidnapped by the Dark Lord?"

Well, she certainly jumped in fast. "It was- er- not pleasant?"

"Yes, I'm sure," said Skeeter, looking deeply sympathetic, "but it must have been quite the adventure. A young girl int the forests of Albania?"

"Well… the Heir of Slytherin was a part of Vol- sorry, the Dark Lord's soul. It came to life and took me to Albania. Once there I didn't really see it or the Dark Lord very often."

"You must have been so relieved then, for Professor Dumbledore and Professor Snape here to rescue you."

"Yes, I was."

"Did you see the altercation? Some of our readers are amazed that there was any Dark Lord left to fight. Seeing as you already finished the job." Her eyes flicked up to Harri's scar. She wished that she had bangs to flatten over it.

"Professor Snape gave me a portkey as soon as he could. I didn't get to see the fight."

"How disappointing," Skeeter said, before continuing, "for our readers that is. A young girl like you, alone and scared. It was too much for you?"

"Harriet was very brave," Snape interjected coldly.

Rita Skeeter ignored him. "Why didn't you try to escape, Harriet?"

"I-" how much of the truth was she supposed to give here? "Well- I- I wasn't exactly able to. There were wards. I couldn't get through them." That was close, wasn't it? A Captivus Curse worked a bit like wards… except they didn't. Oh, she wasn't a very good liar.

"Do you remember your parents at all?" Rita Skeeter asked, changing the subject completely.

"That isn't up for discussion," Snape interjected.

"No. But I have pictures from their old school friends," Harri said at nearly the same time.

"You must have pictures of Sirius Black as well."

"I do."

"How does it make you feel? To know that Sirius Black has escaped."

"I think that he was never given a trial. He's my Godfather, you know. From what I've read it would be very difficult for him to betray my family under that kind of magical relationship. I'd be curious to know if there is more to the story."

Rita was writing very fast, a sharp look of glee in her eye. Snape looked stony.

Harri stayed silent, watching her scribble. Was this leveraging power? How was to say how the Daily Prophet was going to spin that statement.

"Have you heard about the new Dark Lord?" Rita asked her at last.

"Not much," Harri said, which was true. She had done her best to avoid the news.

"He's an English wizard raised in Germany. A relative of the Peverell family."

"We must be cousins," Harri said lightly, "my Muggle peerage is tied to the Peverell family." Again Skeeter scribbled, but this time she did so without looking away from Harri.

"Yes, it seems our last new _leaders_ have been linked to that old family. Did you know that the last Dark Lord was a relative of the Gaunts? Or that Dumbledore's family is linked to Godric's Hollow, much like your own?"

"What an odd connection. I've heard all the old Wizarding Families are related. I think Draco Malfoy is a third cousin of mine, for example." She could still see that family tree in Grimwauld Place.

"There have long been rumors that the reason you were able to defeat the Dark Lord as a baby was because you were very magically powerful. That you might even be," she dropped her voice, "Dumbledore's successor. And I've heard tell that you've been going with Dumbledore-"

"That is not a part of this interview," Snape said firmly.

"I should think the world needs to know if Harriet Potter is the next-"

Snape cut her off again. "Harriet Potter is a minor. She is under no obligation to speak to the press. Guardians of minors can sue if libelous information is printed about them." His sneer was firmly in place.

Rita Skeeter sat frozen, but her own sharp smile was still fixed. She finally looked away from Snape. "I'm sure I have what I need," she said at last. "It was so nice to meet you, Harriet. I look forward to future interviews."

Harri's stomach twisted, and she had a feeling the article was not going to be a flattering one.

* * *

When Hermione was at last caught up two days before term started, the two girls, at last, had a serious conversation about the coming year's classes.

"I don't know how they are expecting me to choose," Hermione said miserably. "I want to take all of it!"

"I understand," Harri said in echoed frustration. "I want to take Care of Magical Creatures but over the summer runes kept coming up. I was thinking I could study on my own, but I keep getting confused."

"At least you've had time to study it!" Hermione exclaimed. "Here I'm having to choose so last minute."

"Well, the first choice is easy, Hermione," Harri insisted. "You don't need to take Muggle Studies. And I know for a fact you think Divination is all rot. That only leaves Arithmancy. We can take that together."

"But it's only rot when it's coming from Lavender and Parvati," Hermione insisted. "From a real witch, it's sure to be better. I wonder if there is a relation to Arithmancy? Looking at magical lay lines to determine future events!"

Thinking of what Fred Weasley had told her about Professor Trelawney, Harri hid a smile.

"And why do you think you need to take Muggle Studies?" Harri asked. Professor Burbage was known for being a very kind witch, but Hermione was MUGGLE BORN. It would be ridiculous.

"Don't you want to know what they're learning about us?" Hermione asked breathlessly. "Don't you want to see what the gaps in knowledge are? There are so many misunderstandings in the wizarding world about Muggles. What if it all starts from a bungled class?"

"I think it starts from making students choose between three different classes," Harri mused. "I mean, Arithmancy is for the serious-minded students. Divination is for people who want a fun class. Who is left to take Muggle Studies? Muggleborns looking for an easy class or witches already interested in muggle things."

Hermione sniffed, "Well judging from Arthur Weasley's understanding- and he's the Head of the Department!- it should be a mandatory class!"

"It isn't though. And you don't need to take it."

"Well, I think I'll just talk to McGonagall about it. Maybe she can do something?"

"Maybe. I should talk to her too. I think I'm going to switch to Runes. Magical Creatures would be so fun, and I think I would maybe like to be a Magizoologist, but with all the instruction I get from Snape I don't know if I'll need to take the class to get an OWL."

"I'm so jealous. I learned so much this summer, and so quickly too! Think how far we could get with more individualized instruction."

"So Arithamncy and Runes?" Harri asked Hermione hopefully. Maybe she would concede-

"No. I want to take them all. McGonagall must know of a way! I can't be the first student to want to take multiple classes!"

"Hermione, you can't be in two places at once, let alone three!"

* * *

Harry hadn't been allowed to meet with Ron and Neville in Diagon Alley. With the escape of Sirius Black, Dementors had been stationed all around Hogwarts at the insistence of the Ministry. It had been requested that Harri be kept within the bounds of Hogwarts until Black was caught.

Hermione had gone alone and returned with their school books and a large ginger tabby. Gulliver instantly fell in love and began to follow Hermione's Crookshanks everywhere. Crookshanks did not like Gulliver, and often tried to run away. It was a certain amount of resignation that led to the two cats being constantly in each other's company.

.

Harri and Hermione waited anxiously in the Entrance Hall on September 1st. Neither had seen Ron and Neville all summer, and their duo was anxious to become a quartet again. It ended up being Malfoy and his gang who entered the Great Hall first.

"Oye, Granger! Did they have to hold you back? Would serve you right," shouted Pansy Parkinson with a snigger, looking hopefully at Malfoy.

"Turns out I don't need a full school year to learn the curriculum," Hermione replied primly. Harri wasn't imagining it, Malfoy smirked at Hermione's dig. The two made eye contact and… well, it wasn't glares and hatred.

This was new.

Last Hermione had said she was frustrated with Malfoy for choosing his family over all the Muggleborns in the school. Was he turning a new

"It's the She-Weasel!" Malfoy jeered suddenly, "I heard you nearly fainted!" Into the hall came Neville, Ron, and Ginny. Ginny looked very pale.

"Shove off, Malfoy," said Ron, whose jaw was clenched.

"Did you actually faint then, Weasley?" said Malfoy loudly. "Did the scary old dementor frighten you too?"

"There was a dementor on the train?" Hermione said, looking shocked.

Neville had come level with them and looked rather pale himself. "It was horrible. It was like I'd never be happy again."

"Those things shouldn't be near children!" Harri exclaimed in shock.

"I still feel so cold," Ginny whispered. Her voice was very hoarse. "I could hear…" she trailed off. Harri didn't need to be told what Ginny had heard. Instead, hesitantly in case Ginny wanted to pull away, Harri wrapped her arms around the other girl and hugged her.

Ginny, stiff and cold, didn't hug her back at first. Slowly her arms wrapped around Harri. "If you want to talk about it we can," Harri told her too softly for anyone else to hear.

Ginny nodded stiffly. "Yes. I'd like that. I haven't been able to with," she glanced over at Ron who was looking at them with a pained expression.

Ginny let go of Harri.

"We were very lucky at Professor Lupin was the compartment," Neville told Harri, gesturing to the sandy-haired man who had just exited the carriage. With a large black dog at his side.

Harri jumped out of her skin. "Mooney! Padfoot?" The dog barked happily and galloped over the Harri. It jumped up and began to lick her face unrestrained.

"It's Professor Lupin, for now, Harri," said Lupin mildly.

"You're our new Defense professor?" Harri asked, giving Sirius a scratch behind the ears. "That's bloody brilliant."

"Language, Harri," Lupin reminded her.

"Well it is!" she insisted. "And you got to bring along Padfoot? That's also brilliant."

"He would have been lonely all alone," Lupin replied, his lips twitching in amusement. The dog barked again.

"Harri, the feast!" Hermione called.

.

The sorting flew by. That hat sang a different song than the one that it had during their first year, which had surprised her.

"Welcome," said Dumbledore, the candlelight shimmering on his beard. "Welcome to another year at Hogwarts! I have a few things to say to you all, and as one of them is very serious, I think it best to get it out the way before you become befuddled by our excellent feast…"

Dumbledore cleared his throat and continued, "As you will all be aware after their search of the Hogwarts Express, our school is presently playing host to some of the dementors of Azkaban, who are here on Ministry of Magic business."

He paused, and Harri could see the displeasure clearly on his face.

"They are stationed at every entrance to the grounds," Dumbledore continued, "and while they are with us, I must make it plain that nobody is to leave school without permission. Dementors are not to be fooled by tricks or disguises- or even Invisibility Cloaks," he added blandly, and Harri and Ron glanced at each other. "It is not in the nature of a dementor to understand pleading or excuses. I, therefore, warn each and every one of you to give them no reason to harm you. I look to the prefects, and our new Head Boy and Girl, to make sure that no student runs afoul of the dementors," he said.

Percy, who was sitting a few seats down from Harri, puffed out his chest; he looked very seriously around the hall, and nobody moved or made a sound. Harri noticed he looked especially long at the Ravenclaw table.

"On a happier note," he continued, "I am pleased to welcome two new teachers to our ranks this year."

"First, Professor Lupin, who had kindly consented to fill the post of Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher."

There was some scattered, rather unenthusiastic applause. Only Neville, Hermione, Ron, Ginny, and Harri cheered loudly. Lupin looked a bit less shabby than the last time Harri had seen him, which hopefully meant Sirius had forced him to buy some new robes.

"Look at Snape!" Ron hissed in Harri's ear.

Snape did not look happy. Harri could guess why. It probably had something to do with he dog laying at Lupin's feet.

"As to our second new appointment," Dumbledore continued as the lukewarm applause for Lupin died away. "Well, I am sorry to tell you that Professor Kettleburn, our Care of Magical Creatures teacher, retired at the end of last year in order to enjoy more time with his remaining limbs. However, I am delighted to say that his place will be filled by none other than Rubeus Hagrid, who has agreed to take on his teaching job in addition to his gameskeeping duties."

Harri, Ron, Neville, and Hermione stared at one another, stunned. Then they joined in with the applause, which was tumultuous at the Gryffidnor table in particular. Harri leaned forward to see Hagrid, who was ruby-red in the face and staring down at his enormous hands, his wide grin hidden in the tangle of his black beard.

"We should have known!" Ron roared, pounding the table. "Who else would have assigned us a biting book?"

Harri looked over at Hermione, confused. When they had gone to switch classes, Harri had been able to drop Care of Magical Creatures, to her own displeasure. Hermione of the other hand had been told that a special accommodation could be made. She was still taking the class. Harri hadn't seen a biting book.

"The shop keeper belted it," Hermione told her. "I haven't taken it out of my trunk. It's a ghastly book."

"Well, I think that's everything of importance," said Dumbledore. "Let the feast begin!"

The golden plates and goblets before them filled suddenly with food and drink. Harri, suddenly ravenous, helped herself to everything she could reach and began to eat.

It was a delicious feast; the hall echoed with talk, laughter, and the clatter of knives and forks. Harri, Ron, Neville, and Hermione, however, were eager for it to finish so that they could talk to Hagrid. Thye knew how much being made a teacher would mean to him. In the meantime, Harri listened to Ron tell them about the Ministry employees who had come to take his rat, of all things.

"Can you believe it? They wanted _Scabbers_. Thought he was an animagus."

Harri was itching to tell Ron the truth, but not now at the table. Tomorrow, hopefully, they would have time.

At long last, when the last morsels of pumpkin tart had melted from the golden platters, Dumbledore gave the word that it was time for them all to go to bed, and they go their chance.

"Congratulations, Hagrid!" Hermione squealed as they reached the teachers' table.

"All down ter you four," said Hagrid, wiping his shining face on his napkin as he looked up at them. "Can' believe it… great man, Dumbledore… came straight down to me hut after Professor Kettleburn said he'd had enough… It's what I always wanted…"

Overcome with emotions, he buried his face in his napkin, and Professor McGonagall shooed them away.

The four joined the Gryffindors streaming up the marble staircase and, very tired now, along more corridors, up more and more stairs, to the hidden entrance to Gryffindor Tower. Before she could enter the tower, Harri felt a slight tug on her rob.

It was Ginny.

"Can we talk, Harri?" she asked.

"Yes of course!" and the two made their way into an unused classroom.

Ginny was shaking slightly, but began quickly, "I don't know how I'll ever make it up to you Harri. I couldn't stop the diary. Tom was too strong. I wanted to flush it away. I wanted to tell someone! But every time I tried I couldn't." A sharp sob cut Ginny off before she kept going, "I wanted to tell someone. I got you in trouble. You were kidnapped. And Tom- Tom- He as You-Know-Who the whole time!"

"Ginny-"

"It was always him in my head," she sniffed.

"He was in my head too, Ginny. He made me give the diary to you, that's what I wanted to tell you." Harri couldn't' meet Ginny's eyes. "I don't know if you know, but Hermione was given that book by Malfoy's dad. I was the one who picked it up. I'm the one who mingled magic with it. Then I talked to it… and I couldn't stop him from getting information out of me. He realized that I was the one who had defeated Vol- sorry, the Dark Lord. So he made me give the diary to you so that he could use some poor first year, and then take me to the Dark Lord. It was his plan all along, and I let it happen too." Harri's ended bitterly.

"You didn't have any more control than I did?" Ginny asked tearfully.

"No," said Harri shaking her head. "No. He made me forget so I couldn't even remember that I had the book at all. Then it was us down in the Chamber."

Ginny sobbed again. Harri reached out and took her hand, giving it a squeeze. "It was us. And he told me that you were going to die. I tried to bargain with him, but before anything really could happen, Snape showed up. And Snape somehow killed the Basilisk and was dying. And then he wasn't, but you were dying. And I- I had to do something. So I bargained for your life."

"No, Harri! You didn't." Ginny sniffed loudly.

"I said I'd go with him if you got to live."

"That's why you were gone," Ginny said softly. "It wasn't that he kidnapped you, it was that you- that you- you chose to go with him? For… me?"

"I'd do it again," Harri told her firmly. "I couldn't let you die, Ginny, when it was half my fault you were there in the first place. And… well, we were friends, weren't we? Before? That summer. Then everything went wrong and you had the book. But, I like to think that maybe we can be friends again?"

"You want to be my friend, Harri? After everything?" Ginny's ears were pink and her eyes were glassy from tears and exhaustion. It had been a horribly long day.

"Only if you want to be mine. I would understand if you blamed me-"

Ginny threw her arms around Harri's shoulders and hugged her tightly. "If you don't blame me, I don't blame you. I _know_ what it was like to have Tom in your head, Harri. But he's gone now," said Ginny with steel in her voice. "He's gone, and we're still here!"

He wasn't gone, not really.

"We're still here," Harri confirmed, hugging Ginny back just as tightly.

* * *

Thanks to Talisa-chan, ALIASTESIN, and Hawkie81 for reviewing.


	44. Captivus: Talons and Tea Towels

When Harri, Ron, Neville, Ginny, and Hermione entered the Great Hall for breakfast the next day, the first thing they saw was Pansy Parkinson, who was entertaining a large group of Slytherins with a very funny story. As they passed, Parkinson did a ridiculous impression of weeping and there was a roar of laughter.

"Ignore her," said Hermione quietly to Ginny. Hermione leveled a glare at Draco Malfoy, who was sitting oddly silent beside Pansy.

"Hey, Weasley," shrieked Parkinson, "The Dementors are coming, Weasley!"

"Get stuffed," Ron shouted as he ushered his sister to the Gryffindor table. Ginny had gone a bit red and was clutching her wand. If Ron was to be believed, her Bat-Bogey Hex was not something to be on the receiving end of.

Harri dropped into a seat at the Gryffindor table next to George Weasley.

"New third-year course schedules," said George, passing them over. "What's up with you, Gin?" he asked, looking over at his fuming sister who sat down across from Harri.

"Parkinson," said Ron, sitting down on George's other side and glaring over at the Slytherin table.

George looked up in time to see Parkinson pretending to cry again.

"That little bint," he cursed. "She wasn't so cocky last night when the dementors were down at our end of the train. Came running into our compartment with Malfoy, didn't she?"

"Malfoy looked like he nearly wet himself," agreed Fred, with a contemptuous glare at the Slytherin table.

"I wasn't too happy myself," said Geroge. "They're horrible things, those dementors…"

"Sort of freezes your insides, don't they?" said Fred.

"Well you didn't turn into a weeping mess on the floor, did you?" Ginny asked gloomily.

"Ginny, I'm sure I'd react just as badly as you. If not worse," Harri said as reassuringly as possible. "The more bad memories you have the more of a reaction a Dementor can pull out of you." Harri could still picture clear as day Snape laying in a pool of blood down in the Chamber; begging her to run while he was dying. A chill went down her spine.

"Anyways, we'll see how happy Slytherin is after our first Quidditch match," said Fred. "Gryffindor versus Slytherin, first game of the season, remember?"

The only time Harri and Malfoy had faced each other in a Quidditch match, Malfoy had definitely come off worse. The day had been clouded with Hermione's petrification. Hermione's drawn face was the only thing Harri could remember from that chilly November day.

Hemione placed a hand on Harri's shoulder, causing her to jump. She handed Harri her schedule.

"We're starting our new subjects today," she said happily.

"Hermione," said Ron, frowning as he looked over her shoulder, "they've messed up your schedule. Look- they've got you down for about ten subjects a day. There isn't enough _time._ "

"I'll manage. I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

"But look," said Ron, laughing, "see this morning?" Nine o'clock Divination. And underneath, nine o'clock, Muggle Studies. And" Ron leaned closer to the schedule, disbelieving- " _look_ \- underneath that, Arithmancy, _nine o'clock_. I mean, I know you're good, Hermione, but no one's _that good._ How're you supposed to be in three classes at once?"

"Don't be silly," said Hermione shortly. "Of course I won't be in three classes at once."

"Well, then-"

"Pass the marmalade," said Hermione.

"But-"

"Oh, Ron, what's it to you if my schedule's a bit full?" Hermione snapped. "I told you, I've fixed it all with Professor McGonagall."

There was a flutter of owls that interrupted Ron's open-mouthed flabbergasted look. This was all the excuse Hermione needed to ignore him (though Harri agreed that he had a point. What on earth was Hermione thinking?")

The Daily Prophet was dropped without ceremony in front of Hermione who gleefully grabbed it while munching her toast. It fell out of her mouth when she read the headline.

 **Exclusive Interview with The-Girl-Who-Lived**

 **Harriet Potter breaks her silence at last!**

by Rita Skeeter

"Oh, Harri! Look!"

On the front page was a blinking photo of Harri that she didn't remember getting taken. She was in the library, so it must have been during the interview. She looked owlish and young, with a sneering Professor Snape hovering over her shoulder. Ron, Neville, and Harri crowded around Hermione to read-

 _"It was October of 1981 when the life of every British witch or wizard was changed. It was a night shrouded in mystery, but we all knew two important things. The first, that the Dark Lord had vanished. Whether dead or with his power broken, none of us knew. The second, well the second sits before me now. We have long wondered about the mysterious young woman, Harriet Potter. As she sits before me (red hair tied back from her face and hazel eyes glinting behind glasses) all I can see is the scar. It truly is like lightening, dear readers._

 _We sit down to speak in the Hogwarts Library. Harriet, thirteen, is under the guardianship of Professor Severus Snape (noted Potions Master), and the Dark man hovers over her shoulder throughout our conversation. I catch Harriet looking back nervously several times, as if afraid that her guardian will not like what she says._

 _My first questions are, of course, centered around her kidnapping by the Mysterious 'Heir of Slytherin'._

 _"The Heir of Slytherin was a part of the Dark Lord's soul. It came to life and took me to Albania," Harriet explained. From what has been released to the public, precious little under the direction of Albus Dumbledore, the Heir of Slytherin was the mysterious force that opened the Chamber of Secrets. This resulted in the death of Ravenclaw, Penelope Clearwater as well as the petrification and hospitalization of five Hogwarts students._

 _Harriet was kept in the forest unable to escape due to wards that the Dark Lord spelled. Though she didn't see "the Dark Lord very often," she was relieved when Professor Dumbledore and Snape rescued her. Harriet was not privy to the battle with the Dark Lord, as "Professor Snape gave [her] a portkey as soon as he could."_

 _We have all given in to speculation over these last few weeks as to whether the Dark Lord is truly gone. Thankfully, our speculation can be put to rest with the appearance of Marvolo Steward. The young German wizard, a relative of the now-extinct Peverell and Gaunt families, comes from American stock that immigrated back to the "Old World" during Grindlewald's political days. Unsurprising to this reporter, Harriet Potter, Marvolo Steward, and He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named can all trace their family lineage to the Pervelle families. Steward and the former Dark Lord through the Cadmus branch, Potter through the Ignotus._

 _It seems unlikely that Harriet Potter, native to Godric's Hollow much like Albus Dumbledore and the Peverell Family, would be unconnected to the happenings of Dark Lords and the Lord of Light. In fact, it has long been speculated that Harriet Potter is the future Lady of Light. How else would a baby bring about, even partially, the fall of a Dark Lord?_

 _According to several classmates, Harriet Potter has spent the magical high holidays (Samhain, Yule, and Beltane) with the Headmaster. While unable to get confirmation from Minster Olsen of Norway, several attendees of the Norwegian Yule Festival did confirm that a young girl accompanied Albus Dumbledore._

 _Unfortunately, my speculation was met with the harsh glare of Severus Snape. Discussion of Harriet Potter's future place in wizarding society is apparently off the table. I would like to point out that the Wizarding Public has a right to this information, and if Harriet Potter is being groomed by Albus Dumbledore with the same intransigent policies, we the public have a right to know._

 _On a slightly different note, I was very interested to know what Harriet thought of the escaped convict, Sirius Black. Black was known to be a close friend of the Potter family before his betrayal._

 _When asked about her feelings on his escape she replied, "I think that he was never given a trial. He's my Godfather, you know. From what I've read it would be very difficult for him to betray my family under that kind of magical relationship. I'd be curious to know if there is more to the story."_

 _Harriet makes a good point. Sirius Black, though a member of the notoriously dark Black family, was a noted Light Wizard. Going without trial was common enough under the Crouch administration of the DMLE, but should the Black capture policy be an immediate kiss? Or is this just another cover-up from Albus Dumbledore and the Fudge Administration?_

 _"It was a time of war!" was the Minister's only comment on the subject. Albus Dumbledore was asked for a statement but did not give one by the time of this article's publication."_

"Well it could be worse, Harri," Neville said lightly when finished. He looked over at her with a curious look. Ron, too, squinted at Harri as if trying to see under her skin.

"Yes..." Hermione agreed, trailing off. "It's not bad for you. She's a bit rude about Snape and Dumbledore. And she seems very sympathetic to this Marvolo Steward character."

"Marvolo Steward," Harri repeated, tasting the name on her tongue. "Can a new Dark Lord be any good for Europe?"

Ron snorted. "Hopefully. The last two have been horrible. But maybe this time. Dad said they used to be a lot more apolitical. The one before Grindlewald was a Black who mostly stayed out of the way."

"These old wizarding families are so convoluted. She has you related to He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named and the new Dark Lord somehow," Hermione said, brown crinkled.

"Yes, the Peverell family," Harri agreed.

"Are you really?" Neville asked with interest. "That's an old family, Harri. I thought that they'd died out on the male line."

"Yes, apparently. I'm not sure how it's all connected. I just know that a Muggle Barony I inherited comes with the title of Lady Peverell."

"You're a Baroness?" Hermione squeaked.

"Well, most of the old families have muggle titles, Hermione," Neville answered. "My Gran has the title of Countess Longbottom. It's a good source of income."

Ron, who had been listening with half an ear, suddenly went pink. Hermione let out a little gasp of realization. "Ron," she breathed, "I was told over the summer that your family's Wizengamot seat has been tied up in court for the last two generations. Does that include…" she trailed off awkwardly.

"Well, yeah. My dad isn't able to hold his title." Ron didn't look up from his plate. Fred, George, and Ginny were all pointedly reading the article that Hermione has passed over to them. Harri could see that George's neck was a bit red.

"I don't think there is much money involved with my Barony," Harri told Hermione, sensing a flare of anger. Was it that the Weasly's were poor because of a bad legal case? Or was it Wizards taking advantage of a Muggle tax base? Both had irked Harri. "My grandfather was a Potion's Master, and most of my family's money is self-made from his patents."

They were saved from more discussion by Hagrid, who had just entered the Great Hall. The Gryffindor's greeted the large man, and Harri let the topic of the article slide. She glanced around the Hall and hoped that there weren't too many copies of the Prophet floating around. The Slytherins were sure to have a field day…

Not to mention the implication that she was the future Lady of Light. Even if it was true, it was something Harri wanted to talk about.

* * *

Harri set out of Arithmancy alone. Hermione said something about seeing Harri there, which didn't make any sense if she was going to the North Tower with the rest of their year group. Arithmancy was on the second floor near the Transfiguration classroom. It wasn't a far walk, and Harri got to class a few minutes early. A few other students were already there. Since each elective was only offered once per year-group, all four houses would be sharing a class.

Harri spotted her friends from Ravenclaw; Padme Patil, Lisa Turnip, and Mandy Brocklehurst. "Oh good!" Harri said, sitting in an empty seat beside them.

"Isn't Hermione Granger taking this class too?" Mandy asked, looking around for Hermione.

"Yes, but she said she was going to Divination," Harri explained. "I'm not sure how it is going to work, but apparently she signed up for all the classes."

"All of them?" Padme asked with a raised brows. "She doesn't need Muggle Studies at all. And if she wants to tell the future, Arithmancy is the superior way!"

"Arithmancy isn't all numerology!" said a bossy voice behind them. Harri jumped.

"Hermione! I thought you were going to divination!"

"Yes, well…" she answered without answering.

Lisa Turnip cocked her head to the side, looking at the gold chain around Hermione's neck that was tucked into her robes.

"Hermione, there are three classes that all meet at nine, aren't there?"

"Yes," Hermione agreed, taking a seat and pulling out her textbook.

"I can think of only one way someone might be able to take three classes all at the same _time_."

"I should think it's none of your business," Hermione sniffed. Lisa smirked, and Harri was more than a little lost.

Before she could ask any questions about Divination, Professor Vector strode in. She promptly put them to work figuring out their Character, Heart, and Social numbers ("Numerology, I told you!" Padme whispered).

It was a fair amount of math, but Harri quickly calculated that her Character was that of a 2. She opened her text to read, ' _Two introduces the idea of conflict, opposing forces, and the contrasting sides of things: night and day, good and evil, light and dark.'_ She closed it with a thump. Of bloody course, it would be.

* * *

After Arithmany the Gryffindors had Transfiguration. Hermione quickly ducked into a bathroom, telling Harri to go on. With a shrug, Harri made her way to class. Arithmancy had been fun, and once Hermione had calmed down she was much friendlier to the Ravenclaw girls who were shooting glances at each other all of class.

Most of Ravenclaw and Slytherin had opted to take Arithmancy. There wasn't a single Hufflepuff, and Harri wondered if they had opted to take Muggle Studies or Divination. It was a bit odd that the houses had divided so cleanly between the electives (well except for Harri and Hermione).

The entire Gryffindor class was already seated when she entered. They all turned back and looked at her as if she were a ghost. Hermione, who entered right behind Harri, snorted loudly. "Honestly, you aren't all still on about that!"

With only two seats in the back, Hermione and Harri sat. "On about what?" Harri asked Hermione in a whisper.

" _Nothing_ ," Hermione assured, though she glared at everyone. The force of her gaze eventually convinced the other Gryffindors to face forward.

Harri did her best to concentrate, but every other moment someone would look back and stare at Harri. She hardly heard what Professor McGonagall was telling them about Animagi and wasn't even watching when she transformed in front of their eyes into a tabby cat with spectacle markings around her eyes.

"Really, what has gotten into you all today?" said Professor McGonagall, turning back into herself with a faint pop, and staring around at them all. "Not that it matters, but that's the first time my transformation's not got applause from a class."

Everybody's heads turned toward Harri again, but nobody spoke. Then Hermione raised her hand.

"Please, Professor, we've just had our first Divination class, and we were reading tea leaves, and-"

"Ah, of course," said Professor McGonagall, suddenly frowning. "There is no need to say anymore, Miss. Granger. Tell me, which of you will be dying this year?"

Everyone stared at her.

"No, Professor. It wasn't that," Lavender said. "Professor Trawlaney didn't say anyone was going to die. She just… went into a trance towards the end of class. And she…"

"It sounded like a real prediction!" exclaimed Parvati.

"A real prediction," Professor McGonagall said with a snort. "Why on Earth would you all think that?"

"Like Lavender said," Ron explained, "she went into this kind of trance. And her voice got really deep! And she started talking about-" Ron looked back at Harri again. "Then she came out of it all of a sudden!"

Harri had a sinking feeling that something very bad had happened in the Divination class. Hermione wouldn't meet her eye.

"What- what did she say?" Harri asked, looking wildly around the room.

Professor McGonagall's lips had gotten very thin, but she didn't stop Hermione from answering.

 **"Power bend, Power Break.**

 **Too much power for one Girl to take.**

 **Scar like lightening, Hair like flame,**

 **Dark and Light with their loosened chain.**

 **If she breaks, if she falters**

 **Magic runs through cracks like water.**

 **Gone forever, gone for good.**

 **Unless the balance is understood."**

Harri sank down into her seat. McGonagall looked exasperated. "I see," she said, fixing Harri with her beady eyes.

"You should all know that Sybill Trelawney has predicted something outrageous every year. Usually, it's death omens, I'll grant you this is new. If it were not for the fact that I never speak ill of my colleagues-"

Professor McGonagall broke off, and they saw that her nostrils had gone white. She went on, more calmly, "Divination is one of the most imprecise branches of magic. I shall not conceal from you that I have very little patience with it. True Seers are very rare, and Professor Trelawney-"

She stopped again, and then said in a very matter-of-fact tone, "I would let this go. ALL of you. Don't go bothering Potter. I understand that some of you may be excited by this morning's paper- Something I am sure Professor Trelawney saw as well- but that is no reason to harass anyone."

Ron looked at Harri, still worried. Neville was very pale and was sitting so stiffly he could have been cursed with the Full-Body Bind.

When the Transfiguration class finally ended, they joined the crowd thundering toward the Great Hall for lunch. Looking around for an empty classroom, Harri pulled her three friends to the side and away from prying ears.

"Come on then," she said to them when the door was closed. "Let's get this done with. The rest of the school can speculate, but not you three."

Hermione looked ready to burst, and Ron looking like he had swallowed his tongue. It was Neville who spoke up first.

"Is it true then, Harri? You're going to be the Lady of Light?"

Harri rocked back on her feet and bit the inside of her cheek. "Yes. I am."

Hermione squeaked and Ron let out a choked, "Bloody Hell."

"Language," Hermione hissed, bouncing up and down.

"Oh, Harri," Neville said, covering his mouth. "That's awful."

"Awful!" Hermione exclaimed. "She's going to be Dumbledore's successor. How could that be awful?"

"Hermione… don't you know?" Ron asked, looking at Harri like her puppy had gotten run over.

"Don't I know what?" Hermione snapped back.

"Light and Dark… they never have normal lives." Ron tried to explain. "They're all mixed up with each other."

"Yes, and? Harri's going to be able to do so much for with wizarding world!"

"Yes," Neville agreed, "But she's also going to have to put up with that new Dark Lord, Marvolo Steward wasn't it?"

Harri nodded stiffly, and Hermione was looking between the three of them trying to solve what she was missing. "All mixed up with each other? Do you mean… like a soulmate?"

Harri didn't meet any of their eyes. "Yes. Like that," she agreed.

"It's rotten luck, Harri," Neville said. "Maybe he won't be too bad, this bloke."

"Or he'll be terrible! He's the bloody Dark Lord. She's going to be stuck with some rotter Dark sider for the rest of her life!" Ron snapped. "They're never happy together."

"But… why?" Hermione asked. "Why would Harri's soulmate be the Dark Lord?"

"It's just what happens. It's about balance, or it was supposed to be. No one used to think anything about it," explained Neville.

"Then Grindlewald went mad and started trying to take over Europe. Then with… you know, _him_ , and his soulmate never even showed up. OR maybe he KILLED them! And there was another war!" Ron was pacing back and forth, hands up in the air as he ranted. His obvious displeasure warmed Harri. It was good of Ron to treat it as more than a rotten piece of luck.

"So Harri's just stuck? With the Dark Lord?" Hermoine's voice sounded very weak.

"A bit," Harri agreed.

"That's just ridiculous! Whoever heard nonsense like that! This is all rot, that's what it is! This soulmate business is a mistake. Magic has it wrong. It's just wonky divination, and I don't care how we get these words on our wrists, I tell you they _don't_ matter."

"But they do, Hermione," Neville said, putting a hand on the ranting girl's shoulder. "They all mean something. It's the path we're supposed to take. The one that magic has put in place for us. To deny it is to test the balance."

"And has anyone actually tested that theory, Neville? We need to look into this. Forget lunch, I'm going to the Library."

"Hermione, stop!" Harri snapped, grabbing Hermione's wrist before she could flounce out fo the room. "I don't know how you're doing it, but you've been to four classes since breakfast. You're going to go eat."

"I haven't been to-"

"You were in Divination with us, and you were in Arithmancy with Harri... Somehow you're able to be in two places at once. You're coming with us to eat- unless you'd like to explain it to us?" Ron looked eager and rubbed his hands together in expectation.

Hermione's lips thinned, and she looked a fair bit like McGonagall.

"The Great Hall then," she groused, and the four made their way out of the unused classroom.

* * *

Hermione had been pleased to get out of the castle after lunch. She had thought about going to Ancient Runes with Harri first, but getting out the castle had a strong appeal.

She had learned too many things this morning and needed a break. Was that even possible? Her fingers itched to go into the Library and research for hours. Maybe if she actually understood what she had learned (Muggle peerage in the Wizarding World, Ladies of Light, and the validity of real prophecy?) she wouldn't feel so overwhelmed.

Care of Magical Creatures would hopefully not be filled with any revelations or extreme creatures. Knowing Hagrid…. Well, it was certainly possible that something dangerous was coming.

Harri bid them a sad farewell, looking longly beyond them onto the Hogwarts grounds. It almost didn't make sense for Harri to NOT be taking Care of Magical Creatures. She loved zoology more than anyone else in their class. It would be an easy O on her OWLs, and she'd certainly be the most accomplished student in the class. Harri seemed to think that she would be able to sit the OWL without the class since she spent so much time with Snape (who happened to be qualified to teach CoMC, too). But Hermione wasn't so sure. How could you sit for a test you didn't take the class for? Surely there would be too much missing information, too much experience, too much nuance of the Wizarding Wolrd that would be lost without the actual class. Even thinking about it made her palms sweat.

The class started well enough. The Slytherins were rude, the Gryffindors for Hagrid, and the Creature far too dangerous for a third-year class.

It was a bizarre looking creature. The Hippogriff had a body, hind legs, and tail of a horse. However, the front legs, wings, and head looked like a giant eagle, with cruel brilliantly orange eyes. The talons on their front legs were half a foot long and deadly looking.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid roared happily, waving a hand at them. "Beau'iful, aren't they?" They were beautiful, but also frightening. There was no getting over the first shock of seeing something that was half-horse, half-bird, and clearly able to kill with a swipe.

"So," said Hagrid, rubbing his hands together and beaming around, "if yeh wan' ter come a bit nearer-"

No one seemed to want to. Hermione, Ron, and Neville, however, approached the fence cautiously.

"Now, firs' thing yeah gotta know abou' hippogriffs is, they're proud," said Hagrid. "Easily offended, hippogriffs are. Don't never insult one, 'cause it might be the last thing yeh do."

The last thing you do? And Hagrid was introducing these things to thirteen-year-old Slytherins? Was he mad?

Hermione shot a sharp look at Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle who weren't listening. They were talking in an undertone. Hermione was certain they were plotting how best to disrupt the lesson.

"Yeh always wait fer the hippogriff ter makes the firs' move," Hagrid continued. "It's polite, see? Yeah walk toward him, and yeah bow, an' yeh wait. If he bows back, yeh're allowed ter touch him. If he doesn' bow, then get away from him sharpish, 'cause those talons hurt."

"Right- who wants ter go first?"

Most of the class backed farther away in answer. Neville and Hermione both took two small steps back. Somehow it was Ron standing in the front. His freckles stood out against the pale white of his skin.

"No one?" said Hagrid, with a pleading look.

"I'll do it," said Ron in a wavering voice.

There was an intake of breath. Lavender and Parvati whispered, "Oooh, no, Ron!" But Ron, with shaking hands, climbed over the paddock fence.

"Good man, Ron!" roared Hagrid. "Right then- let's see how yeh get on with Buckbeak."

Somehow, despite Ron's pale face and wary expression, he was able to bow to the Hippogriff without breaking eye contact. Amazingly, the Hippogriff bowed back. Hermione let out the breath she was holding when Ron actually began to stroke the beak. Those large dangerous eyes closed in clear enjoyment.

"Righ then, Ron," said Hagrid. "I reckon he might' let yeh ride him!"

Ron shook his head, but Hagrid helped him up with gentle force. Then with a slap to Buckbeaks rump, Ron was off, up and away. Ron let out a yelp as he went airborne.

Behind her, Hermione could hear Draco Malfoy mockingly echo Ron.

She wasn't having it. Hermione marched over to Malfoy and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him away from his group. His lips curled unhappily.

"What do you want, Granger?" he asked nastily.

"Don't you dare do anything to ruin this," Hermione whispered. "You and your friends listen to Hagrid, do you hear! And don't make fun of Ron. He's the only one brave enough to even try."

"Don't tell me you _fancy_ Weasley, Granger!" Malfoy hissed quietly.

"I do not," she snapped back. "Just- just don't be an arse, Malfoy. For once."

Malfoy shook his arm lose of Hermione's grip. "Get off me," he said loudly enough for the other Slytherins to hear.

By this time Ron was back, looking windswept and pleased with himself. "Did you see that?" he asked Hermione and Neville proudly when he had clambered back over the paddock fence. "I couldn't believe it! What a rush! It's nothing like flying on a broom."

Emboldened by Ron's success, the rest of the class climbed cautiously into the paddock. Hagrid untied the other hippogriffs one by one, and soon people were bowing nervously all over the paddock. Neville ran repeatedly backward from his, which didn't seem to want to bend its knees. Hermione was able to get a hesitant bow from a chestnut and cautiously stroked its beak and feathers.

Malfoy, Crabbe, and Goyle had taken over Buckbeak. He had bowed to Malfoy, who was now patting his beak, looking pleased.

"Well if you let Weasley touch you, you obviously would let me," Malfoy drawled, loud enough for Hermione to hear him. Hermione glanced over, and he was looking straight at her instead of Buckbeak. "To let a Weasley touch you, well you much have no taste at all, you great brute."

It happened in a flash of steely talons; Malfoy let out a high-pitched scream and next moment, Hagrid was wrestling Buckbeak back into his collar as he strained to get at Malfoy, who lay curled in the grass, blood blossoming on his robes.

"I'm dying!" Malfoy yelled as the class panicked. I'm dying, look at me! It's killed me!"

"Yer not dyin'!" said Hagrid, who had gone very white. "Someone help me- gotta get him outta here-"

Hermione ran to hold open the gate as Hagrid lifted Malfoy easily. As they passed, Hermione could see there was a long, deep gash on Malfoy's arm; blood spattered the grass and Hagrid ran with him up the slope toward the castle.

Hermione followed at a run. The great bloody git had gotten hurt because he was trying to insult her. Well if he thought getting attacked by a Hippogriff would get him out of a Hermione Granger Lecture, he was sorely mistaken.

* * *

Madame Pomfrey raised an eyebrow when she saw Hermione sitting quietly in the Hospital Wing that evening.

Before going in after Malfoy and Hagrid, Hermione realized that she had forgotten about Ancient Runes. Angry, she had traveled back in time (already a mundane activity somehow) and attended the class furious. Harri, who gave up making conversation within moments of seeing the enraged Hermione, had let Hermione run off right after class.

She arrived before Malfoy and Hagrid did, and hid in a broom closet until she heard them thunder passed. She heard her own footsteps, waited for several long minutes, and then exited the broom closet. The Hermione of the past had gone to Runes. What had they even learned that day? Something about the alphabet?

With nothing to do but wait, Hermione started on her homework from Arithmancy. The equations were relaxing and meditative. She felt her anger finally begin to ebb away, and was only interrupted some hours later by the cough of Madame Pomfrey.

"I assume you're here to see Mr. Malfoy?" she asked.

"Yes, if that's alright."

"He needs his rest!" the mediwitch said firmly, "But yes, you may see him."

She led Hermione to the back bed, where Draco sat propped up on pillows. He looked very pale, especially with the white sheets and curtains that surrounded him.

"Come to say sorry?" he asked with a sneer when Madame Pomfrey walked way.

"Sorry? You did exactly what I asked you _not_ to do. You ruined Hagrid's first day of teaching! He could get fired, you git!"

"Is he even qualified to be teaching?" Malfoy asked angrily. "He's not even a qualified wizard you know."

"Dumbledore thinks that he is!"

"What does Dumbledore know!"

"Plenty! More than you apparently. Dumbledore would know not to insult a Hippogriff!"

"Dumbledore would also be smart enough to know that I wasn't insulting the Hippogriff. I was insulting YOU!"

Hermione was so angry that she had to blink away tears of frustration. "Why do you have to be like this?" She asked when she finally composed herself. "I never asked for you to be mean to me. You just are."

"You don't have to be pathetic about it, Granger."

"I'm not being pathetic. I'm being a person. Something you can't understand, apparently. I never did a thing to you, Malfoy. But you always go out of your way to make me miserable."

"You think I'm not made miserable by you?" he sneered. "Don't you get it, Granger? Don't you know what my family will do to yours if we ever go near each other? What my father has already tried to do to you? Or have you forgotten that last year you were petrified because my father would rather you be dead than alive and acting as a 'Mudblood temptation,' for his son?"

Hermione bit her lip so hard that the skin broke. "How could I forget, Malfoy? I was staring up at the ceiling for seven months. I heard every word you spoke to me. And how you _begged_ me not to blame you. You said you wanted my forgiveness and to be my friend. Well, guess what, Malfoy. You don't get to have it both ways. You don't get to insult me and be an arse and try to ruin Hagrid's career. You don't get to choose your Pureblood values over being an actually decent human being. Not if you want any shot at ever being friends."

"I don't want to be your friend anyway, Granger," Malfoy said, looking down at his arm which hung awkwardly in a sling.

"Fine. And we won't be. Not until you grow up and learn to value someone's happiness more than your own stupid need to make yourself look superior."

"I value other people's happiness, Granger you harpy! Isn't it you who just came in here ranting and raving at someone who just got attacked?"

"Prove it then," Hermione spat at him, her hair frizzing with her anger.

"Fine. I will," Malfoy snapped. "DOBBY!"

There was a pop and a very strange creature appeared in front of them. He had large bat-like years, bulging green eyes, and was wearing a tea towel instead of real clothes. Was this… a houself?

"Dobby," Malfoy began, "This is Hermione Granger." The elf gasped, looking at Hermione with those wide tennis ball eyes.

"Dobby can't do something to the Missus Granger!" he said in a high squeaking voice. "Please sir, don't make Dobby!" Great tears welled in his eyes.

"It's not me that wants anything done to her," Malfoy snapped. He reached down and pulled off a dirty grey sock.

"Here," he said, throwing it to Dobby.

The houself caught the sock and looked down at it with reverence. "Master has given a sock?" the elf asked in wonderment. "Master gave it to Dobby?" He looked up, tears pouring out of his eyes.

"Malfoy- Draco…. What's going on?" Hermione asked, looking at the strange creature that was dabbing at his eyes with the dirty sock.

"You said prove it. So there. I have. Dobby doesn't like working for us. Dobby has wanted to be free for as long as I've known him. So I freed him. There. I proved that I care more about someone else's happiness than how my bloody father will react. Are you happy, Granger?"

"Miss. Granger is the reason you have freed Dobby? Oh! Thank you, Miss. Thank you! Dobby will not forget this act of friendship. And from a friend of the Great Harriet Potter too!"

"Umm- yes? But- what?"

"You have my deepest thanks! Farewell, Hermione Granger!" And with a loud crack, Dobby disappeared.

As she had felt all day, Hermione was certain that she was missing the grander implications of what had just occurred. Maybe time travel hadn't been such a good idea. The day was too long, and far too much had happened. When was the last time she had even eaten?

Shakily, Hermione sank to the floor. "Oye, Granger? What are you doing?"

"It's been a long day, Draco," Hermione answered, hands rubbing her temples, trying to head off the growing thrum of pain that had developed there.

* * *

Hi all. I'd like to give an update on my update schedule. I'm currently pregnant, and like my last pregnancy am dealing with something called Hypermesis Gravidarum. It's extreme morning sickness that lasts all day. Last pregnancy I was briefly hospitalized for dehydration, and already I can tell my nausea is worse this time. Hopefully this will pass in the next few months, but until it does I can't promise regular updates. My main focus right now is being a good mom to my toddler while ill and keeping hydrated/well rested. Thank you for understanding,  
K


	45. Captivus: The Boggart in the Wardrobe

Malfoy was unusually quiet when he reappeared in classes late on Thursday morning. The Slytherins and Gryffindors were halfway through double Potions. He slipped into the room so silently that Harri wouldn't have noticed him at all except for Pansy Parkinson's loud exclamation of "How is it, Draco? Does it hurt horribly?"

Hermione had snapped that Malfoy was perfectly well on Tuesday when Harri had asked, but Malfoy had been held up in the Hospital Wing at the behest of his parents. His arm looked perfectly normal to Harri so she turned back to her potion instead of focusing further on Malfoy.

They were making a Shrinking Solution, which Harri had brewed twice over the summer in preparation for working with Neville. As per her agreement with Snape, so long as Neville partnered with Harri and Snape had seen Harri brew the potion to his standards previously, he would leave Neville alone.

Malfoy set up his cauldron right next to Hermione and Ron so that they were preparing their ingredients on the same table. Ron made a disgruntled sort of sound, somewhere between a cough and splutter. Harri couldn't see Hermione's face, but judging by her tense back she wasn't pleased that Malfoy had set up beside them.

"Sir," Malfoy called to Snape, "sir, I'll need help cutting up these daisy roots, because of my arm-"

"Granger, work with Malfoy," said Snape without looking up.

Hermione's shoulder tightened more. Harri heard Hermione hiss, "There's nothing wrong with your arm."

"You didn't bother to visit since Monday," Malfoy replied very quietly. While not a loud class, it wasn't easy to overhear quiet conversations in Potions. The fires burning and the cauldrons bubbling usually blocked out quiet conversations. Something Malfoy most have been counting on because Harri had never heard him speak cordially to Hermione when he thought a Slytherin could overhear him.

"I thought you said you didn't want me around," Hermione hissed. She began to chop Malfoy's roots roughly. While not totally uneven, they were far from Hermione's usual prep work standard.

If it bothered Mafloy, he didn't say anything. He began to work on the potion by separating out a rat spleen. Harri caught snippets of whispered conversation- most of it Hermione bossing Malfoy around on what to do with the potion. Harri found that a bit funny, Potions was the only class Mafloy beat Hermione at consistently.

Harri was showing Neville how to skin his shrivelfig when Pansy said loudly across the room, "I don't understand why you are working next to Granger, Draco. I would have helped you with your ingredients."

"Well Potter is already occupied with Longbottom, isn't she?" Malfoy answered with a glower. "If I wanted someone to mutilate my shrivelfig skin I would have sat by you, Parkinson."

Pansy let out a startled gasp and glowered at Hermione as if she had been the one to lob the insult. Pansy opened her mouth, no doubt to say something nasty when-

"There will be no more talking across my classroom," Snape snapped with a glare that swept across the whole room with a chill.

All was quiet except for the bubbling of the potions. So quietly that Harri almost missed it, Malfoy whispered to Hermione, "Seen Hagrid lately?"

"None of your business," said Ron jerkily.

"I'm afraid he won't be a teacher much longer," said Malfoy, ignoring Ron. "My father… well, you should go see Hagrid."

"What did you say to your father?" Hermione asked softly.

"Not much," Malfoy replied with a shrug. "But he complained to the governors. _And_ to the Ministry of Magic. Father's got a lot of influence, you know. And a lasting injury like this"- Malfoy waved his completely healed arm. Could an arm wave be sarcastic? Apparently, it could - "Who knows if my arm'll ever be the same again."

"Could Hagrid really get fired?" Neville asked. Neither Harri nor Neville were really watching the potion, but thankfully it needed to simmer for the next ten minutes.

"Well," said Malfoy, his voice a full whisper now, "his Hippogriff did attack a student. That isn't something in dispute. Father… Father's not exactly pleased with me right now."

Hermione looked back at Harri, her cheeks slightly pink. Dobby. Malfoy had freed Dobby for Hermione. He was trying to downplay his injury as best he could. Had Malfoy even stood up to his father about Hagrid? Was his father… punishing him? By trying to fire Hagrid?

The ten minutes of simmering gone, Harri instructed Neville to add a rat spleen and a dash of leech juice. It turned a beautiful forest green, exactly correct. Neville breathed a sigh of relief.

Snape, who was walking around the room to see how each potion had turned out, didn't even pause on their potion. Neville was practically beaming when they climbed the steps to the entrance hall.

"Can you believe that git, Malfoy?" Ron asked Harri. "He's letting his father try to fire Hagrid!"

"I'm not sure _let_ is the right word for it." Harri argued. "He freed that houself, you remember the one who was stopping my mail? Dobby."

"Why would freeing a houself have anything to do with firing Hagrid?" Ron asked.

"Oh, talk to Hermione about it," Harri sighed, catching up to Neville. Ron turned to do just that when- "She doesn't have to just disappear!"

Harri turned to look, and indeed Hermione was gone. "What class does she have now?" Ron asked Harri unhappily. "She's been looking bloody run down. I don't know why she's doing this to herself. You're making her get enough sleep, right?"

"Yes Ron, I am ensuring that Hermione sleeps enough. We worked out a schedule. She's budgeted in a two-hour nap and an extra meal every day."

"She could at least say something before disappearing like that," Ron groused.

"There she is," said Harri, pointing up the stairs as Hermione was hurrying down to them.

"You should say something," Ron exclaimed, pointing an accusing finger at Hermione. "We think we're talking to you, and then you just _poof!_ "

"What?" Hermione looked slightly confused. "Oh- I had to go to my Muggle Studies presentation. You know that."

A seam had split on Hermione's bag. Harri wasn't surprised; she could see that it was crammed with at least a dozen large and heavy books.

"Why are you carrying all these around with you?" Ron asked, sounding remarkably like his mother. "You have _time_ to go back to the dormitory to get them."

"You know how many subjects I'm-"

"And you have TIME."

Harri took her wand out and repaired the seam quietly. Ever since the summer, her magic had felt much more fluid. Spells were finally coming easily. Her magic wasn't lashing out every other emotion. She still lacked some of the intuitive understanding that Ron and Neville had or the plain determination of Hermione, but she felt like something had clicked at last. Magic wasn't hard anymore.

"You haven't even got Runes or Arithmancy today!" Ron insisted, looking over two of the books Hermione had handed him to keep her bag from ripping again. "It's only Defense Against the Dark Arts this afternoon."

"It's called studying, Ron," Hermione replied with a sniff. "You should try it sometime," she said as she marched off toward the Great Hall. Neville, who had been waiting at the entrance for them, looked annoyed that Harri and Ron had decided talking was more important than food.

"Hermione needs to bloody well take care of herself," Ron muttered as they followed after Hermione.

* * *

Defense against the Dark Arts, as Lupin had explained to Harri, would mostly focus on Magical Creatures that year. This had been a relief to Harri, who felt that it compensated for her lack of Care of Magical Creatures class.

Harri had snuck over to Remus' rooms Tuesday night under her invisibility cloak and had been provided with tea and biscuits for her trouble. A pleasant enough reward for being out of bounds, she had thought from her place in a comfortable sitting room.

Remus and Sirius had asked her earnestly if she would be willing to face a boggart in class. "I'd really prefer for You-Know-Who to not appear before all your classmates, Harri," Remus had explained

"Why would it be Voldemort?" Harri asked, truly curious.

"It's the obvious choice, isn't it?" Sirius had answered. "You did just spend a summer with him."

"It wasn't a full summer," Harri replied, biting into a crisp ginger biscuit.

"I don't think it's the length of time we were worried about," Remus sighed. "Harri, you've been through some shockingly bad situations."

The fight for the stone, the basilisk, Snape dead on the ground, Tom's expression as he plunged the knife... his body sinking into the cauldron…. The great moments of fear filtered through Harri's mind. Still, none of them compared to the feeling she got when she pictured the alter under Yggdrasil's branches. Of some future Beltane when the alter would be more than cold stone.

It wasn't even Voldemort that factored into that fear. Their interactions had been banal, almost bland. He had barely even threatened her. Had barely touched her even in passing. Harri didn't think he was any more interested in that alter than she was. Tom… Tom had been very interested in it. The memory he had pulled her into… the one from Litha with the fire… Well, Tom was dead. What had risen out of the cauldron was cruel and predatory, but not particularly interested in Harri physically.

As far as she could tell.

Harri cast her mind about trying to think of something she feared more than the alter under Yggdrasil. Snape, nearly dead in the chamber, his chocked whisper to _run_ … but that was over too. Snape wasn't dead. Fawkes had fixed everything, so there wasn't a reason to fear it.

"It isn't Voldemort," Harri assured Lupin. "If anything… it won't be something anyone understands."

"That's like yours, Moony," Sirius said, jabbing Lupin in the side.

"What's yours?" Harri asked.

"A full moon," he answered. "In reality, a full moon without my friends. But that has been the reality for so long," he shrugged, "the moon is what it was the last time."

"Mine used to be of my mother screaming!" Sirius exclaimed, trying to lighten their solemn faces. "You should have seen how everyone laughed when ol' mum walked out of that cabinet and started hollering at me. Word got back to her and she sent me a howler! Then the whole school got a taste."

Having met the portrait of Walburga Black, Harri thought it to be a perfectly reasonable fear for anyone to have.

* * *

Lupin wasn't there when they arrived at their first Defense lesson. They all sat down, took out their books, quills, and parchment, and were talking when he finally entered the room. Lupin smiled vaguely and placed his shiny new briefcase on the teacher's desk. His robes, while not new, were no longer the shabby ones he had worn when they had first met. Sirius must have bullied him into buying a few new things, she realized. It had slipped past her notice, but the new briefcase illuminated Lupin's escape from true poverty.

"Good afternoon," he said, "Would you please put all your books back in your bags. Today's will be a practical lesson. You will need only your wands."

Lupin led them out of the classroom. He took them along the deserted corridor and around a corner, where the first thing they saw was Peeves the Poltergeist, who was floating upside down in midair and stuffing the nearest keyhole with chewing gum.

Peeves didn't look up until Lupin was two feet away; then he wiggled his curly-toed feet and broke into song. The altercation ended with Lupin teaching them all a new spell ( _Waddiwasi_ ) and chewing gum getting rocketed up Peeves' nostril.

"Cool, sir!" said Dean Thomas in amazement.

"That you, Dean," said Lupin, putting his wand away again. "Shall we proceed?" There was a warm little pocket in Harri's heart at the approval the other students held for Lupin. None of them liked Snape at all, but she could see the growing respect for Lupin. And he was hers, just like Snape was hers. Lupin had been her father's friend. Practically her Uncle. The person who should have gotten her (what with Sirius in Azkaban) as a baby if the Ministry hadn't been so stupid about werewolves.

Harri found that she enjoyed the class thinking her Uncle was _cool_ , a feeling Harri had never experienced once in her life. They would think Sirius was cool too, if they knew him. Would they have liked her father? In another life would she be Harri Potter, the girl with a likable family that people wanted to be around?

They set off again. He led them down a second corridor, and stopped, right outside the staffroom door.

"Inside, please," said Lupin, opening it and standing back.

The staffroom, a long paneled room full of old, mismatched chairs, was empty except for one teacher. Snape was sitting in a low armchair, and he looked around as the class filed in. His eyes were glittering and there was a nasty sneer playing around his mouth. While on better terms than they had been, Harri knew that Snape held no love for Remus Lupin.

He got to his feet and strode past the class, his black robes billowing behind him. At the doorway, he turned on his heel and said, "Possibly no one's warned you, Lupin, but this class contains Neville Longbottom. I would advise you not to entrust him with anything difficult. Not unless Miss. Potter or Miss. Granger is hissing instructions in his ear."

Neville went scarlet. Harri glared at Snape. Just when he had finally stopped bullying Gryffindors in his own class, he had to come in here and bully Neville. And why? It was just like him. Picking on Neville because he was too spiteful to deal with his emotions like a normal human. Well, she'd show him.

"Neville's great actually, Professor," Harri said before Snape could leave. Her eyes never left his, and if Snape cared that he had infuriated his young ward, he didn't show it. "In fact, Neville should go first."

Neville's face went, if possible, even redder.

"My thoughts exactly, Harri," Lupin agreed, clapping Neville on the shoulder. Snape's lip curled, but he left, shutting the door with a snap.

"Now then," said Lupin, beckoning the class toward the end of the room, where there was nothing but an old wardrobe where the teachers kept their spare robes. As Lupin went to stand next to it, the wardrobe gave a sudden wobble, banging off the wall.

"Nothing to worry about," said Professor Lupin calmly because a few people had jumped back in alarm. "There's a boggart in there."

Harri let the motions of the class fade away and tried to think of what it was she was most afraid of. She had been mulling it over since tea with Sirius and Remus. Was it the altar? Or something deeper.

She could still remember the way it felt to have Vernon Dursley's hand closed around her wrist, the way his purple face would yell and she would struggle to escape his grasp. But there had never been getting away. Only bruises… and hunger… and the dark cupboard. It wasn't the dark that scared Harri. The dark hadn't exactly been safe from Dursleys, but it had been a respite. But in the cupboard, she had been alone, and that had been scary in its own way. When she had been old enough to understand real hunger... that was when fear and the cupboard had been tied together. That the Dursleys would forget her and one day wake up to the smell of her dead body because they had forgotten to feed her.

Death wouldn't be so bad though. Death had her parents. They were waiting for her, wherever it was people got to go. Vernon Dursley was no longer near her. She rarely gave him a thought. The last time she had seen him, she had been able to hang him upside down with her frenetic magic.

Could it be… Ron? Neville? Hermione? Leaving her alone once they realized the real _truth._ She had started to believe that they wouldn't leave her though. Not her friends who had followed her down into a pit full of Devil's Snare. Not Hermione, who had trusted a presumed murderer and a werewolf to save her best friend. Not Ron and Neville, who had been willing to fight a Basilisk for her.

"Everyone ready?" said Professor Lupin.

Harri felt a lurch of fear. She had no idea what she feared most. Maybe Lupin was right, with so many experiences to pull from there was no telling what the boggart might be. It wouldn't be Voldemort though, would it?

"On the count of three Neville," said Lupin, who was pointing his own wand at the handle of the wardrobe, "One- two- three- _now_!"

A jet of sparks shot from the end of Lupin's wand and hit the doorknob. The wardrobe burst open. Hook-nosed and menacing, Professor Snape stepped out, his eyes flashing at Neville. Neville backed away, his wand up, mouthing wordlessly. Snape was bearing down upon him, reaching inside his robes.

" _R-r-riddikulus_!" squeaked Neville.

There was a noise like a whip crack. Snape stumbled; he was wearing a long lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a long, lace-trimmed dress and a towering hat topped with a moth-eaten vulture, and he was swinging a huge crimson handbag.

There was a roar of laughter; the boggart paused, confused, and Professor Lupin shouted, "Pavarti! Forward"

Parvati walked forward, her face set. Snape rounded on her. There was another crack, and where he had stood was a blood-stained, bandaged mummy; its sightless face was turned to Parvati and it began to walk toward her very slowly, dragging its feet, its stiff arms rising-

" _Riddikulus!_ " cried Parvati.

A bandage unraveled at the mummy's feet it became entangled, fell face forward, and its head rolled off.

"Seamus!" roared Lupin.

Seamus darted past Parvati.

 _Crack!_ Where the mummy had been was a woman with floor-length black hair and a skeletal, green-tinged face- a banshee. She opened her mouth wide and unearthly sound filled the room, a long wailing shriek that made the hair on Harri's head stand on end-

 _"Riddikulus!"_

The banshee made a rasping noise and clutched her throat; her voice gone.

On it went. A rat, a rattlesnake, an eyeball, then it was Dean's turn. There was a severed hand creeping along like a crab- then it was Ron who faced down a giant spider- and then finally-

"Harri!"

Harri stepped forward, wand at the ready, and _Crack!_

It wasn't the alter.

It wasn't Snape dying in the chamber. It wasn't Ron or Neville or Hermione leaving her for good. It wasn't even Vernon Dursley.

Albus Dumbledore lay dead on the floor.

The typically twinking blue eyes were flat and pale. There was blood running out his gaping mouth. His skin was pale and shrunken.

It was like being doused with a bucket of freezing water. The fear she felt looking at the body was unexpected yet obvious. Dumbledore dead meant that it was all on Harri now. It meant Voldemort, yes, but also all the magical responsibility that came along with Dumbledore's death. Harri would never be a match for Voldemort alone. Without Dumbledore there to stand in the way there was nothing to protect the Wizarding World from the inadequacy of Harriet Potter, Lady of Light. Voldemort would win. Easily. And now one knew! No one knew just how close they all were to devastation.

Harri was frozen. Try as she might, she couldn't think of a single way to make the death of Albus Dumbledore something to laugh about.

* * *

Hi everyone! Good news, I'm no longer sick all the time. Thank you all for being so kind and understanding about my hiatus. It wasn't something I wanted to do, but I'm glad to be well again and energetic enough to write.

As someone who is officially human again, I've decided to participate in NaNoWriMo this month to try and finish out the last 13 chapters of Captivus. That doesn't mean I'll be posting when every chapter is finished (I'm going to build a buffer gosh darn it!) but it does mean that I'm planning to be back on a once a week schedule. If you'd like to say Hi over there, I'm under my AO3 username, kdblaylock93. Wish me luck, and there will be an update on 11/8!

Thanks to PrincessMagic, EatsBooks, , SkyeMoor, Duellist, pull-the-leverkronk, trulte, LittleMissJamu, irezei, sophiewhettingsteel, Neredia, ALIASTESIN, and a very kind Guest for your encouraging comments. I received nothing but kind and understanding words, and you don't know how much that meant when I was struggling with guilt over pausing this story.


	46. Captivus: The Calm Before

If there had been any question about whether Harriet Potter was the future Lady fo Light, it had been put to rest with her boggart. As with all happenings at Hogwarts, the whole school knew about the Defense class before dinner. Snatches of conversations made their way to Harri's ears, and it made her cheeks burn to think that _everyone_ was talking about her.

"Can you think of any other reason she would fear Dumbledore being dead?"

"Can't blame her, who would want to be the Lady of Light? Can you imagine?"

"It's a rough gig for sure, but it was obvious, wasn't it? What with… you know, _him_."

"That new Dark Lord isn't a bad looking bloke. I wouldn't mind being Potter."

"You'd think it would be a German or French witch eventually! That's three British ones in a row."

"How much longer do you think Dumbledore's got?"

"Dumbledore is really getting on in years, isn't he?"

"It'll be Potter before she graduates."

Even Professor Snape appearing in Neville's Gran's clothes wasn't enough to distract the student population. For weeks everywhere Harri went people would grow silent and stare at her, then whispers would start up as soon as she walked past. Hermione, Neville, and Ron did their best to shield Harri from the whispers, but there wasn't much they could do. Even Fred and George Weasley attempted to help with distractions. There were no less than three explosions a week for the rest of September and into October.

Harri, for her part, began to take more and more of her meals with Remus and Sirius or down in the dungeons with Snape. Sirius and Remus were overly concerned and would attempt to distract Harri with amusing stores about her parents. Even so, that was only after the first night and the first conversation.

"You know your dad was quite the dancer, yeah?" Sirius had said. They were sitting around the small dining table in Remus' quarters.

"He was?" Harri asked, trying to picture a stiff and formal ballroom. Her father didn't seem the type. He had been goofy and a slacker, hadn't he? That didn't lend itself to ballroom dancing.

"All the purebloods can," Remus said. "Your dad and Sirius were such good dancers they would go off with each other more often than not."

"You're just jealous you couldn't keep up with us when we would quickstep," Sirius sniffed.

"And you're just disappointed that Dorcus didn't know a thing about dancing and you couldn't quickstep with her."

"Did my mum dance then?"

"James taught her," Sirius said, making a face of disgust. "It was horrible, Harri. Two left feet on your mum. James had a plan for this spectacular dance at their wedding-"

"He wanted to dance to Waterloo by ABBA," Remus added.

"My dad liked ABBA? That is supremely lame."

"No, your mum _loved_ ABBA. She used to play that song for your dad and say that she was surrendering at last. After _years_ of resistance."

"And the dance didn't work out?"

"James tried to teach her this fantastic jive. We choreographed the whole thing, it would have been spectacular."

"It would have taken Felix Felicis and a spell on her legs to get Lily through that routine."

"I could dance the woman's part just fine!"

"Not all of us have been in dancing classes since the age of five, Sirius!"

"You're just mad that you can't dance either."

Remus rolled his eyes. "Yes, because women everywhere were waiting in the wings to dance with you and James. You were both unbearable show-offs, and you know it."

"We were not!" Sirius squawked indignantly.

"I can't dance," Harri interjected. "I've never learned. Is that an important thing for purebloods?"

"It can be," Remus said. "It hasn't come up that often for me, for obvious reasons. I've mostly kept out of society to stay off registration lists."

"My mother swore it was of the utmost importance," Sirius said gleefully, "One of the few things we agree on. Not to worry, I'll make you a proper Lady yet."

"The Wizarding World doesn't care about muggle peerage," Harri reminded him.

"They care about money. You have plenty- no thanks to your peerage I might add. You can thank your Granda Charlus for that. The crusty elite care about magical power, and you have that too. If you want to have influence, you need to learn to dance. It's soft power, and all about appearances."

"So I can come out into society like some sort of pureblood? I'll never fool them, Sirius. It's the little things that will always mark me as muggle-born. Muggle raised-" she corrected at Sirius' expression, "or however you want to put it."

"You may think you should boil water for tea- for some ungodly reason when you can just cast a spell!- but you're still a Potter. You're my heir too, come to think of it. I changed my will when you were born. If I got offed in the war I wasn't going to have some nasty relative of mine getting all that gold."

"Wait- you did what? Why would you make a baby your heir?"

"Oh why not," Sirius chuffed. "Can you imagine Bellatrix's face if she found out a half-blood was going to get the Black fortune. I'd die just so I could come back and see it."

"What Sirius means to say-" Remus cut him off with a stern sideways glance, "Is that you are a young lady of remarkable potential..." He paused. One of those meaningful pauses that adults use to say, 'you should talk about the thing that is troubling you.'

"You're going to make me say it, aren't you?" Harri asked, looking at the floor.

"No, I'd never make you," Remus said. "But I think you should say it all the same, Harri. Lily and James wouldn't want you to be alone. They would want you to feel like you could talk to someone."

"The truth… the real truth isn't what you think."

"I think Sirius and I both have a good idea about what the real truth is Harri. We are perfectly aware that the Dark Lord didn't die in Albania."

Harri looked up. "I know you know. But this… Isn't it too horrible to say out loud?"

"I can think of a lot of horrible things, Harriet," Sirius said, leaning forward. "I spent the last decade with dementors and all I was able to think about were horrible things. I can say them out loud if you like. My mother didn't love me. My father thought I was a disappointment. My soulmate was better off without me. My brother is the reason my soulmate is dead. Two of my closest friends would be alive if I had made one different choice. Does that even the scale for you?"

Harri felt herself shaking. It was a full-body tremble that she couldn't control. Her magic didn't lash out and she didn't feel magically unbalanced, but she still felt too full of emotion. "I'm going to be the Lady of Light when Dumbledore dies," Harri choked out at last.

"That isn't the part I meant," Sirius said. "While I certainly don't envy you the role, I think there is another part that you should say. That you've kept to yourself for too long. Harri, we will still love you. No matter what those words on your wrist say."

"I can say some horrible things out loud if it helps," Remus said softly. "I was turned into a werewolf as a child because of my father's mistakes. I didn't forgive him before he died. My mother died from a disease that could have been magically cured, but my father was dead and I was studying magizoology abroad. She died, and I could have saved her if I had been closer to home. I spent eleven years hating a man who would have died for me, and those same years loving the memory of a man who betrayed your parents."

It was like a block cleared from the back of her throat.

"My soulmate is my parent's murderer."

The nights spent with Remus and Sirius after that didn't have many serious conversations. They were joyful stories about good friends and good fun. There were a couple of sad stories- and Harri still didn't have the whole of what had happened to Dorcus Meadows- but all said it was good to have people to talk to. Adults who loved her while knowing the whole truth.

Then… there was Snape.

Love and Snape weren't something Harri often thought about. In the theoretical sense, Harri was certain that he loved her. Someone didn't rush into the Chamber of Secrets to fight a Basilisk if they didn't. She had known it since the Hospital Wing after Quirrell, and even if she wasn't always certain of Snape's intentions or plan, she was certain that he loved her. The problem with Snape loving you was that it made him worry. It made him moody. It made his bully her into extra training whenever they were together. There were no stories about the old days with Snape. There was only magic, potions, and attempting to mold Harri into someone who might stay alive long enough to _be_ the Lady of Light in more than just name.

He was training her like he was running out of time.

"Not good enough," he snarled the first Saturday of October.

"Well, I'm doing my best!"

"Your best isn't going to keep the Dark Lord out of your mind. Have you even been meditating?"

No. She hadn't for the last week. She had been training for Quidditch three nights a week and fallen into an exhausted sleep without thinking about Occlumency. For two nights she had stayed up late with Ron and Neville playing exploding snap. One night had been spent with Lavender, Parvati, and some of their Ravenclaw friends in the Gryffindor dorms having a 'girls' night (Lavender and Parvati had decided that Harri needed a distraction again). Hermione had grudgingly joined in- and had found that she quite liked Padme and Lisa Turnip.

There was a pressing need to meditate when Harri lay in bed, exhausted from her day. There was no burning hot feeling of invasion. No sensation that the Dark Lord was trying to reach out. Perhaps he had only done it the one time to see if he could? Maybe it had been just as uncomfortable for him and he wasn't interested in doing it again.

"That's very naive," Snape snorted.

"Hey, get out of my head!" Harri gasped, startled.

"I'm not being subtle. If you were to just focus a little more you would be able to tell that I'm there."

"Well maybe I'm just no good at this!"

"Or maybe if you would try half as hard as you do at anything else you would make progress."

And on it went.

With Snape it was always try, focus, work harder, brew more often. It wasn't that she didn't want to become a better witch. It was just that sometimes she wanted to play Quidditch. Or spend time with her friends. Sometimes focusing too hard on what the future held made her feel paralized with fear, and it was easier to ignore it than to confront her future reality.

* * *

In no time at all, Defense Against the Dark Arts had become most people's favorite class.

Occasionally the Slytherins would make snide comments, but Draco Malfoy seemed intent on keeping the younger years in line. For the most part, Hogwarts was unusually tension free between the four houses. What resulted was even the Slytherin's begun to warm up to Lupin. He was the first competent Defense Professor they had had in years.

His next few lessons for the third years were just as interesting as the first. After boggarts, they studied Red Caps, nasty goblin like creatures that lurked wherever there had been bloodshed. From Red Caps they moved on to kappas, creepy water-dwellers that looked like scaly monkeys.

Harri only wished her friends were as happy with some of their other classes. Ron and Neville complained constantly about potions. While the rest of the school had forgotten that Neville's boggart had worn his grandmother's clothing, Snape hadn't. He was especially mean to Neville and started making him pair with Ron instead of Harri. Hermione hated Divination, and went on about the useless lopsided shapes and symbols. Lavender and Parvati had taken to haunting Professor Trelawney's tower room at lunchtimes, and always returned with annoyingly superior looks, as though they knew things that the other students didn't. They would speak very softly to Harri, as though she was on her deathbed (usually this stopped within a day of their visit).

Nobody really liked Care of Magical Creatures, which, after the first action-packed class, had become extremely dull. Hagrid seemed to have lost his confidence. All the Gryffindors hated spending their lessons with flobberworms, which were the most boring creatures in existence if Ron were to be believed.

Harri, feeling like she had dodged a bullet, was really enjoyed Arithmancy and Ancient Runes. They had moved on from basic numerology to examine weather patterns and ley lines. Harri finally understood why the best Potions Masters focused on Magical Creatures or Arithmancy. Arithmancy was incredibly useful when applied to Herbology. It allowed for accurate predictions about plants growing and when they should be picked to be at their most magically potent. Herbology wasn't Harri's favorite class- it reminded her too much of the long hot summers she had spent with Aunt Petunia's flower beds- but seeing the Arithmic application had started to bring new life Professor Sprout's class.

The first week of October marked the start of the Quidditch season. Oliver Wood, a burly seventeen-year-old seventh year, was desperate to win the cup. He called a meeting on that first Thursday evening to discuss tactics.

"This is our last chance- _my_ last chance- to win the Quidditch Cup," he told them, striding up and down in front of them. "I'll be leaving at the end of this year. I'll never get another shot at it."

"Gryffidnor hasn't won for seven years now. Okay, so we've had the worst luck in the wrold- injuries- then the tournament getting called off last year…" Wood swallowed, as though the memory still brought a lump to his throat. "But we also know we've got the _best-ruddy-team-in-the-school_ ," he said, punching a fist into his other hand, the old manic glint back in his eye.

The first game was against Hufflepuff, and Wood began pointing out all the different players to Harri whenever they sat near each other in the Great Hall. Harri had never paid much attention to the Hufflepuffs.

"See, over there? That's Diggory. He's the Captain for the Hufflepuffs," Wood explained, pointing to a fifth year boy.

It wouldn't be fair to say Harri's world stopped. That would have been an under exaggeration.

While she had _seen_ Cedric Diggory plenty of times before, she hadn't ever taken notice of him. Maybe it had something to do with Tom Riddle and his very handsome face, but Harri had never paid attention to boys until Riddle had pulled her into the memory-fire of Litha. Since that moment… well, she had taken notice of Oliver Wood's broad shoulders. Of Ron's tall frame. Even Roger Davis from Ravenclaw had a certain attractive apparel that Harri had been startled to comprehend (because it had never been a thing that she noticed, NEVER!). All of it was abstract, unlike with Tom, and she wouldn't have ever called it attraction. More like admiring art.

That wasn't at all what it was like to look at Cedric Diggory.

He had dark hair and sparkling grey eyes. He was tall with chiseled features that made him look older than fifteen or sixteen. Even from the Gryffidnor table she could make out his laugh amongst the other Hufflepuff students, deep and friendly.

Then worst of all- he looked at her! Cedric Diggory met her eyes while she was staring. Harri felt her cheeks go bright red, and she awkwardly waved to him. He smiled broadly and waved back.

Harri wanted to die.

* * *

It had been tempting over the last two months to try and contact Harriet again somehow.

The lure of invading her dreams regularly was strong enough that Voldemort knew it was best to stay away completely. The first time had led to useful information, the location of Peter Pettigrew. It would be easy to justify his invasions as looking for more information. However, Voldemort knew being a constant presence in his Horxcux's mind would be counterproductive to his ultimate ends. The distance was necessary for the time being. The less Harriet thought about him the more likely she was to grow into herself. To grow into the innocence of a maiden instead of the ignorance of a child. If he was ever going to snatch away a part of her soul it was maidenly innocence that needed to be shattered.

Time. It was always time with Voldemort. He had plenty of it, but already he wanted to speed ahead to when everything was settled. He enjoyed plotting and planning as much as the next Slytherin, but perhaps there was some Gryffindor side of him that wanted to rush ahead. To skip to the end where Harriet was the Lady of Light, bound so tightly to him that she could never break loose, and to when he held all the true power in the Wizarding Europe.

Time. Distance. Patience. Voldemort was Slytherin's Heir. He would be patient with his little twin flame of magic.

He itched to follow the link of their souls.

It was the worst part of having a Horcrux. He always wanted them safe. He wanted them close by so he could be sure that nothing was wrong with them. It was a trick and anxiety he had had to conquer. The soul always wishes to be whole, and his desires were not logical ones. To keep the vessels near was to put them in danger or give obvious importance to them. He had locked his soul pieces away in locations that would never see the light again. He abstained from following the connection to them. The more separated he kept the less the soul pieces occupied his mind.

Not the case with Harriet.

She was his most vulnerable piece. Would that he could lock her away so that she never saw the light again. If only it was plausible to keep her hidden. Later, perhaps. Though most likely not. From what he was hearing from Russia, their current Dark Lord must have locked way his Lady. Had anyone heard from Anna Petranova for the last decade? It was bad practice and attracted the wrong kind of attention.

Despite having to keep his distance, at least he finally had tonight. Samhain. Sweet little Harriet would be there, a term of the deal he had set with Dumbledore. He had at least tonight. Then Yule, Beltane, and Litha were guaranteed to him. He may need to keep his distance, but he was greedy for the sight of her. At the very least he would placate himself with this. He would have to orchestrate something to get her to the next year's rituals as well. It would be best to arrange that before Litha- to bind her tight before she had reason to refuse. And she would refuse if he left it too late, Voldemort knew that with certainty.

Harriet wouldn't be happy with him come Litha. No, not happy at all.

* * *

 **This isn't a long chapter and it probably doesn't feel like a lot happened. But there are plot nuggets in here for the next three books, so I'm going to look real clever five years from now when this series is finished someone is re-reading it (she told herself as she wrote more relationship filler instead of getting a move on with the actual plot).**

 **Thank you for reading and I'll be back next Friday with a Samhain chapter and could it be... more about Harri having a mortifying crush? Yes, I think it could be. Also! A couple of you mentioned in the comments that you thought Harri's boggart might have been a dementor. It might have been, but Harri hasn't met dementors yet in this cannon. So that also gets to be in the next chapter (next chapter is so long... sorry if you read on mobile)**


	47. Captivus: Dementors and Deals

The morning of Samhain dawned bright and cold. It was a clear day with a bright blue sky, the sort of day that was perfect for Quidditch or a hike in the forest. The news that awaited them in the Great Hall did not reflect the idyllic fall weather.

Neville read the news first. Hermione was deep in her Arithmancy text and had waved off the paper absently. Their project on the best dates to plant and harvest wolfsbane was due in a week, and Hermione was determined to calculate her times down to the millisecond. Harri absently ate a piece of bacon while surreptitiously glancing at Cedric Diggory across the hall. She was making a study of his hair, which seemed to fall perfectly into place. She was startled out of her thoughts by Neville's hand gripping the sleeve of her robes.

Worried that she had been caught out, Harri quickly turned to Neville. "It's only because of Quidditch!" She hastily explained.

"Harri," Neville whispered, and shoved the paper towards her, looking at Hermione across the table in pale horror.

Harri looked down at the headline:

 **_Muggle Couple Found Conspiring with Sirius Black_ **

_Currently in Ministry custody awaiting questioning_

 _"The trail of Sirius Black, thought cold after several months without sightings, has warmed up again. Thanks to a concerned and esteemed member of the Wizarding Community, Lucius Malfoy, the involvement of two muggles, Dan and Emma Granger, has been uncovered…"_

"Oh no," Harri gasped softly.

Hermione looked up from her book. "What is it you two? You look like you've seen a ghost." Nearly Headless Nick, sitting three seats over, coughed loudly.

"Hermione," Neville said, "The paper. It isn't- it's not…"

"It's your parents," Harri said, holding the paper out. "And it's Malfoy. I'm so sorry Hermione."

Hermione read the paper quickly with Ron looking over her shoulder. He couldn't read nearly as fast, but he got the gist as Hermione tore through the three-page article.

"That rat bastard," Ron hissed, wand in hand. "I'll get him for this. Acting like he was trying to be _nice_ in potions."

"Ron… just- wait," Hermione managed, looking wildly around. "Don't bother Malfoy. I need to find McGonagall."

Hermione didn't have to look far.

McGonagall was already rushing toward the Gryffindor table, paper in hand. "Miss. Granger," she said once in earshot, "If you'll follow me to the Headmaster's Office."

"Yes," Hermione said, looking just as pale as she had in the Hospital Wing last year. Then she began to gather all the papers, quills, and books that she had strewn around the table. Helplessly, like she wasn't sure how to clean up fast enough and follow McGonagall.

"I'll get your things," Harri told her, "Just go. We'll take care of everything with your classes too if we don't see you."

Hermione nodded, and stood, following McGonagall out the door. Ron began to try and cram all of Hermione's books back into her bag, still muttering about the untrustworthiness of Malfoy.

"Did he know?" Neville asked Harri, both of them staring down the Slytherin table where Malfoy sat. Malfoy always looked pale. He always looked smug. Who was to say that his pale smug face had anything to do with Hermione. Who was to say that he even knew his father got her parents arrested. Harri didn't see a paper anywhere near him. He might not know yet.

"I don't know. We know his dad will do just about anything to get rid of Hermione. And he said that his dad was mad at him about freeing the house-elf. Maybe… do you think he was trying to punish Draco?"

"That's a lot of benefit of the doubt, Harri," Neville said.

"Too much," Ron added. "He knew. He had to have known. Now what, Hermione's parents go to Azkaban? For some setup? I bet they don't know anything about Sirius Black."

"That isn't… strictly true," Harri whispered. Neville and Ron turned sharply away from the Slytherin table and gaped at Harri.

"Come on," she sighed. "There are a few things I should have explained sooner," and she ushered the boys out of the Great Hall into an unused classroom.

Once Harri was sure the door was closed behind them, she began, "Sirius Black is my godfather. He's the one who found me in Albania."

Neville audibly gasped.

"You said it was Snape and Dumbledore who found you. Now you're saying some Death Eater found you first? Was he trying to carry something out for _You-Know-Who_?" Ron asked, eyes wide.

"No, nothing like that," Harri said quickly. "Your rat, Scabbers, you know how the aurors came? Well, that was because he was Peter Pettigrew and he escaped from the aurors once they left your house. Sirius never killed anyone, it was Pettigrew who killed those Muggles. Black was never a Death Eater, it was Pettigrew all along. It was Pettigrew who betrayed my parents to Voldemort!"

"Not Black," Neville mused, "Because he's your Godfather."

It dawned on Ron too, "And it would be really difficult for your Godfather to do something like that. He should have died!"

"Yes!" Harri exclaimed, "Exactly. So he broke out of Azkaban when he found out I was missing. He was able to use the Godfather bond to find me. Only I couldn't leave because of the... wards. So I had him take a letter to Hermione so that she could help him get information to Remus, Dumbledore, and Snape. They might have cast first and asked questions later if Sirius just showed up without someone there to explain everything."

"What does that have to do with Hermione's parents?" Neville asked. "That's just Hermione. Her parents weren't involved."

Harri gave Neville an incredulous look. "OF COURSE her parents were involved. Do you think Hermione was just going to wander off without letting her parents know what was happening?"

"But they're Muggles," Ron added, "She had to say something, because they're her parents, but why would she tell them all of it? How could they understand it?"

"Because she sat down and explained it to them!" Harri cried in frustration. "Just because they're Muggles doesn't mean they're stupid. Hermione's bloody brilliant. Where do you think she got it from? Her parents aren't dumb! They're dentists for Christ's sake."

"The tooth doctor thing," Neville said blankly.

"That requires years of advanced schooling," Harri explained. "They had to do really well in school to become doctors. Think of them like… Masters of their magical branch. They've obtained masters in tooth health."

"Muggles needs Masters of tooth health?" Ron asked, bewildered.

"This isn't the point. The point is that Hermione explained everything to them. And they had a lawyer and they were trying to be sure they had as many rights as possible in the magical world. Can't blame them after last year."

"Because they weren't informed about Hermione," Neville agreed. "And that wasn't okay at all. I told my Gran about that, and she couldn't believe it. She's no fan of full Muggle integration, but she certainly thinks parents need to know when their children are incapacitated like that."

"So they have a lawyer and knew about Black," Ron said, "That still doesn't explain how they could get accused of harboring him… unless… they tried to set Black up with their lawyer?"

"Yes," Harri confirmed. "And from the looks on your faces, that wasn't a good idea."

"All cases are recorded in the Hall of Records," Ron said. "My dad took me when I was a kid because they have this really cool room with all these quills that write out all sorts of things. Law cases, magical bondings, really anything that involves a magical contract. Rows and rows of parchment." Ron's cheeks went a little pink. "I know that's more of the sort of thing Percy would like, but it really is interesting to look at. Most of the Ministry is boring."

"The Hall of Records would record that Sirius got a lawyer?" Harri asked.

"Yes. So say Malfoy was looking for anything to do with the Grangers because he's a prick. And he also sees that Sirius Black just happens to have the same lawyer. Well… maybe he bribes the lawyer. Maybe he threatens the lawyer. But somehow he finds out that it was the Grangers that referred him," Ron explained.

"That's a clear connection," Neville added. "Or at least clear enough that a bunch of Dark Families would have no problem issuing a warrant for the arrest of two Muggles. Especially if Lucius Malfoy was particularly keen about it."

"What do we do then? To help her parents?" Harri asked. "Are you saying… that there is actually a case to be made that they did something wrong?"

"Until Sirius Black isn't listed as a convicted murderer, her parents have aided and abetted him," Neville said. "I don't know. I guess- I'll write Gran. Or maybe I'll ask one of the Professors if I can floo her to explain."

"If only Black weren't a convicted felon," Ron mused. "Then Hermione's parents wouldn't technically have done anything wrong."

"He needs a trial," Harri agreed.

"He hasn't had one?" Ron asked, looking over at Neville as if Neville could explain something.

"The Dark families currently have the majority," Neville said with a shrug. "It might not be to his benefit to go to trial right now."

"Unless…" Harri mused, but trailed off.

"Unless what?" Ron asked.

"Unless the Dark Lord told them to give Black a fair trial," Harri said. "Because they would, wouldn't they?"

"Probably?" Neville guessed.

"How are you going to get the Dark Lord to do that?" Ron asked. "It's not like you even _know_ him yet. Do you?" Ron looked at Harri's silver mark covering accusingly.

"Lucky for us it's Samhain," Harri said, "Which means I should be seeing the Dark Lord tonight."

"And you're just going to get him to give Black a trial? Just like that?" Neville asked skeptically.

"That or get him to free Hermione's parents," Harri confirmed.

"HOW?" Ron exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "The Dark Lord isn't going to just do something for you, he's the Dark Lord."

"I'll think of something! There has to be a way. It's for _Hermione_!"

"Harri," Neville said softly, almost sympathetically, "I don't think that's the way Dark Lords work. Even for you."

* * *

Harri met Dumbledore in the Great Hall at 3:30 wearing the undyed homespun robes he had sent her. Her hair was in a simple plait and she had put in her contacts in order to leave behind her new frames that had metal screws. It would just be the mark covering to take off before entering the Ring.

It would be the first time Voldemort might see her words.

It would be the first time that she might see his.

"No protests about attending?" Dumbledore asked as they made their way out of the castle.

"No," Harri replied. "Not at all." Not if Hermione needed her help. Her friend had come back from her meeting with the Headmaster very quiet. Something very unlike Hermione. When Harri had tried to talk to her, Hermione had just gotten up and gone to their dorm.

"What should we do?" Harri had asked Lavender and Parvati. The two girls hadn't had any ideas either.

"You have to look out for her tonight," Harri told them. "I've got to go with Dumbledore. Can you be sure Ron isn't too overbearing? And maybe try to keep Draco Malfoy away from her?"

"We can do that," Lavender agreed. "But Harri… Hermione doesn't even like us."

"Yes she does," Harri assured. "She doesn't understand you, but she likes you both."

Parvati shook her head, "No, _you_ don't always understand us Harri. But you do _like_ us. Hermione thinks we're annoying. Don't you think we would just bother her?"

"Sometimes it's good for Hermione to be annoyed," Harri said. "It's better than being… like this. She doesn't have to talk about it or anything, but she's shut down. She's acting like…" Harri trailed off. She's acting like me, was the ending of that statement.

No wonder everyone had been so worried about her last year. She'd done the same thing, hadn't she? Emotionally shut down and disengaged with everyone.

"Last year it was the two of you who helped me," Harri told them. "I know I wasn't the best roommate or the best friend last year. But you were there. That helped. Maybe that will help Hermione too until all this can get worked out."

Uncertainly, Lavender and Parvati agreed to watch out for Hermione.

So no, there weren't going to be any protests about going to Samhain and seeing Voldemort. Harri needed to do something, anything, to get Hermione's parents out of trouble. Maybe Voldemort was half behind this, maybe he wasn't. But he had the power to reign in Lucius Malfoy and get the Grangers released.

Dumbledore gave her one of his more firm looks. "He didn't have anything to do with Miss. Granger's parents," he told her, not unkindly as they drew near the gates. There- she could feel the soft touch of his mind on hers.

"How can you be sure?" Harri asked. "He could just lie."

"Purposefully involving muggles skirts very close to the line of our agreement," Dumbledore explained. "It isn't outside the realm of possibilities, I suppose, for the Dark Lord to be involved. I wouldn't count on it though. Lucius Malfoy needs precious little reason to interfere with Miss. Granger and her parents."

"You might be right… but you could have just asked," Harri told him sullenly, "Instead of invading my mind."

"Forgive me, you are right. I was worried, rightly so it appears, that you might think you should deal with the Dark Lord to free Miss. Granger's parents."

"He could do something about it!"

"At more cost than we would want to pay," Dumbledore argued. They were at the gates now and Harri felt the air grow even colder. She had known dementors were guarding the school, but unlike the rest of her classmates, she had yet to meet one.

"We are working on freeing the Grangers," Dumbledore told her as he opened the gate. "The Dark Lord isn't necessary. They are muggles and very few witches or wizards believe they have the intelligence or ability to be a threat."

Harri followed Dumbledore through the gate. The cold intensified. Harri felt her own breath catch in her chest, the cold was inside her very heart….

Guarding the gate were several cloaked figures. Their faces were completely hidden beneath their hoods. Harri's eyes darted downward, and what she saw made her stomach contract. Their hands were glistening, grayish, slimy-looking, and scabbed, like something dead that had decayed in water…

Vaguely she heard Dumbledore order the dementors away, but they didn't move quickly. She could hear the slow, rattling breath, as though they were trying to suck something more than air from their surroundings.

Harri gripped Dumbledore's arm tightly. It was hard to stand. She couldn't see! She was drowning in cold. There was a rushing in her ears as though of water. She was being dragged downward, the roaring growing louder…

And then, from far away, she heard screaming. Terrible, terrified, pleading screams. Harri wanted to help whoever it was, she tried to stand without support, but couldn't…. A thick white fog was swirling around her, inside her-

"Harri!"

Dumbledore was kneeling over her, gently touching her face.

"W-what?"

"I'm sorry to do this, my dear, but we really must get to the Stones. Close your eyes again, and focus on your breathing."

She closed her eyes, but the squeezing feeling of apparition did nothing to help her fogged and nauseated state. Once they landed, Harri rolled onto her hands and knees and wretched violently.

Dumbledore was there, helping her stand without judgment as she spat the last of her sick on the ground. It was a struggle to stand straight and Harri felt overwhelmed by dizziness. Cold sweat was all over her body, and she was shaking violently.

"I knew I'd react poorly to dementors," she said as jokingly as possible, "but I had no idea it would be this bad."

"Good God Dumbledore," came a familiar voice. Perhaps less high than she remembered. There was even a slight accent, German maybe? But the cold cruelness of the voice was unmistakable to Harri.

Voldemort had appeared beside them without a sound. He reached out a hand to steady the very unsteady Harri, looking at Dumbledore accusingly.

"You didn't drug the girl to get her here, did you?" he asked.

"Not at all," Dumbledore replied calmly as Harri tried to free her arm from Voldemort's burning grasp. He didn't let her go. "I should have cleared the gates of dementors before Harri got too close. They didn't… agree with her, I'm afraid."

"You apparated her immediately after an extreme reaction to dementors?" Harri, eyes closed as they led her stumbling form toward the circle couldn't see Voldemort's face, but she could hear his extreme displeasure.

"Time waits for no man," Dumbledore mused. They stopped moving. "Let us divest ourselves of metal, Harri."

Shakily, Harri tried to free her arm from Voldemort once more, but he still wouldn't let it go from his vice-like grip. Taking a deep breath Harri looked up at last to meet his gaze. Only… Voldemort wasn't looking at her face. He was looking down, instead, at the silver mark covering.

He found the clasp and slid the thick bangle open. His eyes never left her wrist as he read the words written there. Harri tried again to tug her arm away, and this time he let her go.

Dumbledore helped steady her, and Harri wiped her brow of the cold sweat that wouldn't stop beading. "This way," Dumbledore said, guiding her gently into the Ring of Brodgar. "I'll conjure you a pillow and some chocolate. You should rest while we attend to our task."

* * *

The fires had been lit. The words had been spoken. The blood had been given.

It was different this time.

Last time Harri had felt like a wild doe, leaping and skittering across the fire in a rush of pure light magic. She hadn't realized how unbalanced the ritual had been until she felt Voldemort's magic there as well, meeting Dumbledore's. They didn't mix.

It felt like tension, like a chord on a piano not played quite right (a sharp when it should have been a flat). Harri's own magic expanded out of her for the first time in weeks when she added her blood to the fire. It rose and met with Dumbledore's, elated and built up by the Light, but it also swirled and combined with Voldemort's. Their magic, always so similar, blended and faded together into a perfectly tuned song. It was quieter than it should be, Harri could tell. The blast of Dumbledore's and Voldemort's magic had sounded like a loud ringing in her ears (loud enough to wake the dead, she mused).

Her mix with Voldemort sounded like a prelude. The beginning of something, the overture of a symphony perhaps. It was lovely, but clearly not the dominant force yet.

"If that doesn't demonstrate what I've been saying for years, I don't know what does," Voldemort told Dumbledore smugly. The three had settled into a surprisingly peaceful companionship. Time began to move on and it was nearing nine.

"I never disagreed with you," Dumbledore replied blandly. "I always understood your complaint. That did not absolve you of your duties."

"Duty," Voldemort scoffed. His red eyes gleamed across his fire as he stared at Harri. Like a snake waiting to strike, she thought. He kept looking at her that way. Not the same as what Tom had done, that had dripped with _longing_. Somehow Voldemort's gaze was worse. It was a grown man wanting to devour her.

Harri slowly broke off another piece of chocolate. She was much better now, the effects of the dementors completely gone. It had taken time after the fade of magic from the fire. Her magic had returned for its dance (song? combination? expansion?), and Harri had felt overly drained. It had taken tea, chocolate, and several hours to return her to her natural vigor.

Their peace was broken by a silver doe that leaped into the Ring. Dumbledore stood the moment he saw it, and walked towards the beautiful silvery creature.

"What is that?" Harri gasped in awe. What a beautiful piece of magic!

"A patronus," the Dark Lord answered. "Usually they're used to ward off dementors, but they can also be used to send messages. More reliable and faster than an owl."

The silvery glowing light faded, and the doe was gone. Dumbledore returned to them.

"There has been a disturbance at the school," Dumbledore told Harri. He looked truly worried. "I do not believe that it can wait until morning."

"It's not more about the Grangers? Is it?"

"No," Dumbledore confirmed, looking over at Voldemort. He didn't want to say more, Harri guessed. He didn't want Voldemort to know what was going wrong at the school.

"I can't imagine it will take more than an hour of my time. Long enough to secure a few things at the castle. Protections for the students," he explained to her.

"Are you trusting me alone with your little apprentice?" Voldemort chimed in. He was far too happy about this.

"You know the rules," Dumbledore said, steal in his voice. "You do not touch what is mine by magic. She is of the Light, the Ring of Brodgar protects her on this night. You may not take her from the Ring or use magic to harm her."

"Nor would I," Voldemort said blandly. "Haven't we already established that dear little Harriet holds little use for me at this time."

Dumbledore glared at the Dark Lord, his magic swirling around like a tornado. "Your word that you will honor the old laws, Tom Riddle," Dumbledore demanded.

"My word is my bond," the Dark Lord replied, "You will find Harriet Potter as you left her when you return."

Dumbledore calmed. And then… Dumbledore left.

Harri couldn't believe it. He had actually gone back to the school. Leaving her alone with Voldemort.

Who looked far too satisfied with the arrangement. He wasn't acting the way he had when they had last met. He had treated Harri with distance, had barely spoken to her at some points. So why was he looking at her like this now? Was it the combining of their magic? Was it having some sort of effect on him?

Her stomach roiled.

"Well then, Harriet. Why don't you tell me about your school year?" He asked when they heard Dumbledore apparate away.

"What?" That hadn't been expected.

He shrugged, and moved around his fire to be closer to hers. There were maybe ten feet between them. Harri sank down onto one of the pillows Dumbledore had conjured and pulled her wool cloak tightly around herself.

"Dumbledore may be gone for some time. I see no reason to sit in silence. Now, you've been at school for two months."

"Yes. I have," she looked at him speculatively. Maybe she had been imagining all the predator movements and snake-like glares. Maybe it had all been a trick of the light.

"Third year and now you're taking- what was it?" he asked, then finished without pausing, "Care of Magical Creatures and Ancient Runes?"

"Not Care of Magical Creatures, actually," Harri clarified. "I switched to Arithmancy."

"A pity you had to choose," he said, inclining his head. "In my day we were afforded more options and an extra time slot to. Though Muggle Studies wasn't offered then," his lips quirked in amusement.

"Muggle Studies is a useful class," Harri protested firmly.

"I don't doubt it," Voldemort agreed, finally sinking down to sit on his own conjured pallet. "Many of the students I went to school with would have benefited from such a class. Though tell me, how many Purebloods bother with it?"

"Not many," Harri admitted. "A few Hufflepuff purebloods, I think. For some reason, all the Gryffindors seem to take Divination." He easily caught on to her dismissive tone.

"Not a fan of Divination, Harriet? Arithmancy isn't all that different."

"It seems fake," Harri confessed. "My friends do their homework and just make everything up. They get good marks. Wouldn't the Professor be able to tell that her students are all faking their homework?"

"Yes, that does sound like the Gryffindors of my day as well," he agreed with a small chuckle. "Divination is a tricky art, or so I've been told. I doubt any of your classmates would be able to divine a thing."

"You think it's nonsense too!" Harri accused.

"I would not say that I discount Divination," Voldemort countered. "No, not nonsense. It is simply magic that I can not touch. Though I grant you, unless one is in possession of the 'inner eye,' there is little point in the study."

"But you do believe it?" Harri asked, worried. "You really do think there is… prophecy?"

"Prophecy?" He asked, narrowing his eyes. "Has someone told you a prophecy, Harriet?"

"It was made by Professor Trelawney," Harri said making a face. "I don't think she's a source to be trusted."

A cold smile spread across his face. "Do you know the full prophecy then, Harriet? I should dearly like to hear it."

"What? No. Did you hear me, it was Trelawney! She isn't- it isn't even- you really believe in this stuff?"

"I have reason to believe that Sybil Trelawney is in possession of the 'inner eye'. She is the great-grandaughter of the famed Cassandra."

"I don't want it to be real," Harri said.

"Tell me anyway, Harriet. Come now, we can bargain for it. What is it you would like?"

Was it that easy? Tell him what Trelawney had spouted off on the first day and he would do something for her? Why would he care about it? Then again, Voldemort was the one who kept bringing up balance and the importance of Light and Dark. Dumbledore too. It was a prophecy that scared Harri, but that didn't mean it was important or valuable to anyone. She was willing to lose the words… for Hermione.

"My friend's parents were recently arrested for conspiracy with Sirius Black. I'm guessing giving him a trail is too much to ask for," she paused to see if his expression changed, but it didn't. Voldemort must be excellent at playing poker. "So what I want is for Emma and Dan Granger to be released and their names cleared. If you promise me you'll make sure that happens, and that their lives return to the way they were before- no changes in their rights involving Hermione!- I'll tell you the prophecy."

"Deal," he said, looking like the cat that had caught the canary. His expression was nasty, and Harri realized instantly that she had bargained too low. There was nothing to be done for it.

"Okay- it went like this… **Power bend, Power Break./ Too much power for one Girl to take./ Scar like lightning, Hair like flame./ Dark and Light with their loosened chain./ If she breaks, if she falter/ Magic runs through cracks like water./ Gone forever, gone for good./ Unless the balance is understood.** "

Voldemort stood stalk still. Like a snake sighting prey. He blinked. Then he blinked again. Then Voldemort burst out laughing.

Feeling peeved Harri glared, "What? Why are you laughing? I told you it wasn't any good."

"And when Harriet," Voldemort asked, shoulder shaking, "did Professor Trelawney make this _prophecy_?" Voldemort could barely get the word out.

"On the first day of term! I wasn't there, but she made it during the 3rd year Divination class."

"Oh, this round to you, Harriet!" he said, laughing once more. "No wonder you didn't think it was worth anything. I should have been more specific."

"More specific?"

"This wasn't the prophecy I thought you meant. There is another, also made by Sybil Trelawney. Some thirteen years ago. I had thought- but no. Dumbledore hasn't told you about that."

"And you believe _that_ one."

"I have a partial pensive memory of that telling. I've seen how she delivered it. It was authentic. I was certain then, and I am certain now. What you just recited," he laughed, "For future reference, Harriet, I've yet to hear of a prophecy that rhymes."

"It's not real?" Harri asked, relieved.

"Not at all," Voldemort assured, "September 2nd was the day your article was printed, correct? In the _Daily Prophet_?"

"Yes… it was," Harri remembered. It wasn't hard to connect the dots, "She was trying to impress the class on the first day. So she made it up going off the article!"

"Exactly. A good trick. It sets the right kind of mood for a Divination class. Atmosphere and showmanship make up a good part of leadership and handling unruly participants."

"You're not… angry then?" Harri asked. "You'll still honor our deal?"

"To the letter," Voldemort agreed. "As I said, this round to you, Harriet. I was over-eager to hear the rest of our prophecy. It is something I have wanted to hear for many years now. If I had known the full contents all those years ago… Samhain of 1981 could have gone much differently."

Harri's eyes widened. Samhain of 1981. The night Voldemort had killed her parents. 'Our prophecy' Voldemort had just said. It wasn't just that he thought she knew some random prophecy from Sybil Trelawney. He had thought she had known the one that had sent him after _her_ as a baby all those years ago.

A prophecy that had led to her parent's death.

Snape. What was it he had said last summer? He had overheard something. Something that had led to the death of her parents. Dumbledore, last year at this very spot, had told her that Voldemort had learned something that had to do with his death.

Voldemort still didn't have all of it though. An incomplete accounting… somehow.

"Trelawney made a prophecy that Snape overheard," Harri said softly, looking into Voldemort's glowing red eyes.

He inclined his head in confirmation.

"But Snape didn't hear all of it… but someone did. It has to be Dumbledore, doesn't it? You thought he told me."

"Yes," Voldemort agreed. "He's the only one to have heard it in entirety. But there is a record of it Harriet. Did you know that every prophecy received in Magical Britain must be legally submitted to the Department of Mysteries?"

"There's a copy of it?"

"Yes. In the Hall of Prophecy deep in the Ministry. Contained in an orb that is cursed so that only the one the prophecy is about may lift it from its shelf."

"So why haven't you gone to get it?" Harri asked, once again seeing that Voldemort was up to something. That he _wanted_ something from her.

"I? Thanks to our little deal, Harriet, Marvolo Steward would look very odd requesting entrance into the Hall of Prophecy. Let alone retrieving one intended for Voldemort."

"You want me to get it," Harri realized.

"I'd make it worth your while, little Harri," he said. He always sounded so damnably condescending when he called her Harri.

"It might be difficult for you to request entry as well. A minor would require the consent of her guardian. In your case… I doubt Severus wants you to see the contents of that orb any more than Dumbledore does. But you have cunning, don't you Harriet? You have an invisibility cloak. Should you be caught- well… who could blame dear Harriet Potter for wanting to know the truth?"

"And what will you give me?" Harriet asked, hands balled in frustration.

"Why Harriet, I'll give you exactly what you want. I will give your Godfather a trial. I will ensure that Sirius Black is a free man. All it will cost you is the orb. Not such a hard task, is it?" His tone was silky and persuasive. It did seem like a fair trade. What did she care if Voldemort had some prophecy? It was from Trelawney! It was probably another fake anyways.

A pop could be heard in the distance. Dumbledore was back from whatever emergency had happened at the school.

Voldemort didn't break eye contact with her. Slowly, Harri nodded. "Fine," she agreed. "Deal."


End file.
